


Chosen

by mojohwrites



Series: Children of Light [2]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Alien Culture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Fallen | Eliksni Guardian (Destiny), Fireteam Brave - Freeform, Friendship, Game: Destiny 2: Season of the Worthy, Gen, Kinderguardians (Destiny), Panic Attacks, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25964563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mojohwrites/pseuds/mojohwrites
Summary: Newly Risen, a Vandal and her Ghost are navigating a world where Eliksni Guardians don’t exist… yet. Luckily, she eventually crosses paths with a Hunter—one who’s been helping a particular Captain to unify the scattered and open-minded to a new House.(Sequel to “Lightless”)
Series: Children of Light [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819123
Comments: 33
Kudos: 41





	1. The Tragedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Vandal and the Ghost discover a lost sector.
> 
> [content warning: aftermath of violence]

|| My heart aches for the children I abandoned ||

|| They sought me, but I did not answer their cries ||

|| I found other children ||

❖

It was not the first time she had dreamt of pink skies.

The dream was mostly the same as before: she found herself in a sort of paradise, surrounded by beautifully tended plants and waterways, the sound of flowing water pleasant and calming. She was following a path towards something that called to her. As she walked she reached out to the side with a primary arm to feel the lush grasses, hand gently caressed by the soft and iridescent leaves.

The atmosphere was peaceful and serene—she could stay here forever, surrounded by such beauty. Warm light cascaded down from a source above and eventually she felt a pull to up look at it.

But as she lifted her head—she found herself awake.

The Vandal sighed as the fragments of the dream* faded and she began to stir, alerting her companion. A Ghost shimmered into view next to her and spun their shell thoughtfully.

 _«I almost saw something that time—I think our connection is becoming stronger!»_

The still-sleepy Vandal craned her neck and yawned, mandibles splaying wide and revealing rows of sharp teeth. She blinked both sets of eyes a few times.

«I should hope so, we have been friends for awhile now.»

 _«Not that kind of connection—it’s a… neural symbiosis. From what I recall, it’s supposed to help make resurrections easier. Though luckily we haven’t had to deal with that yet.»_

She stretched each of her arms and rose. «I’d rather avoid dying whenever possible, but if you want to test your theory perhaps we can figure something out.» she said to her Ghost, eyes glittering playfully.

 _«That’s not what I’m saying—I don’t want you to die on purpose!»_

«Then let us be careful today, as always.» she teased with a growl, grabbing at the Ghost, who spun away with a laugh then dissipated back into her Light.

More awake now, the Vandal drank from the small spring near the front of the cave then carefully packed a few supplies: some of the fish she’d dried the day before and a handful of the mushrooms that grew in the cave. Hidden away behind several large boulders and thick foliage, this place had been a useful find—it was defensible and easily missed. The small space had become home, at least for now.

A few days earlier they had scouted an area that the Vandal now wanted to return to. She thought about it while closing her pack and reaching for her armor. Something about it had felt familiar, despite being sure that they hadn’t been there before.

Secretly she was also curious to explore the area because of her Ghost’s unusual reluctance to stay long. The little light had tried to play it off as a concern for the roving Cabal squads, but the Vandal had sensed something was off.

Donning her armor meticulously, the Vandal finished by wrapping a faded green fabric around her head and neck. Though she had no House anymore, the feel of the fabric was comforting and her Ghost liked to nestle into it from time to time. She’d quietly hoped to find a better material someday—one that could be adjusted and sized properly, perhaps even adorned with some detailwork. But that was a luxury for the future.

The Vandal checked her pack once more and started to climb upward to the cave’s mouth. She paused briefly at the entrance for her Ghost to scan for danger. The morning was cool, the air still slightly damp from the early dew. She could hear the forest around her begin to stir.

They traveled in relative silence, taking paths that the Vandal intuitively knew were safe from enemy patrols. Eventually the stillness was broken by the Ghost, who began softly reciting the Eliksni poems they’d discovered in her memory cores.

The two were still unsure _exactly_ how the Ghost had acquired these—the Vandal couldn’t remember her previous life and the Ghost had been partially disabled at the time—but the files were interesting. The Eliksni was curious about her people, having forgotten much with her death, though sometimes bits and pieces rose to the surface.

She liked this poem. It spoke of the mighty Kell of Stone*—usually their story made her melancholy, but this particular verse spoke of their strength and wisdom as a leader. It was encouraging.

Some time—and several poems later—they reached the place the Vandal was interested in. She cautiously crouched low beside a dense bush and surveyed the area. Hidden behind the foliage up ahead was a rusted iron gate, partially hanging off what remained of its crumbled hinges. The concrete wall it was affixed to was riddled with holes and several scorch marks—though it was hard to tell how recent these were.

 _Guardian, I don’t think we should go in there._ Her Ghost appeared in front of her with a shimmer, looking somewhat nervous.

«We have explored places like this before and often found something useful. I am aware of the danger.»

_«Yes, but… this place is different.»_

The Ghost was hesitant, and the Vandal could feel a strange mixture of feelings before wariness began to pulse through their connection.

«What aren’t you telling me, little one?» she asked quietly.

It was a few long moments before the Ghost finally replied.

 _«You used to be part of the crew who lived here. Back before… before we became bonded. You didn’t leave in the best of circumstances… »_ she trailed off.

The Vandal hummed, finally realizing why it had seemed so familiar—the memory of this place was blurred, but aspects were beginning to sharpen.

«Then where… shouldn’t there be someone guarding this place?»

She gently brushed past her Ghost and began to search, trying to ignore the unnerving feeling that began to settle in her stomach. It wasn’t long until she found a body—near the entrance, an unfortunate Dreg with several gaping holes in his chest.

It wasn’t the first corpse she had seen since waking, but a tinge of recollection made her hesitate. The Vandal paused as a name rose from the void; she whispered it softly.

«Kavrak.»

Her companion silently floated over to her. _«I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is a good idea.»_

The Vandal continued to stare at the body, feeling lost and unsure. She had known this Dreg in her past life, but trying to remember him was like trying to see the bottom of the lake through murky water—the details were clouded and escaped her. 

«I want… I have to know what happened here. Why he was _left_ here.» A spark of anger began to flare up within her—both at the frustration of not remembering and realizing that this situation was somehow deeply wrong.

_«You’re mad. That’s fine, just don’t… don’t do anything stupid.»_

She nodded to her Ghost then carefully moved the body to a dryer spot. The Vandal took a deep breath and ventured past the gate, unsure of what she’d find within but determined to see what lay beyond the darkened corridor. Her Ghost dutifully followed behind.

The air grew colder as the tunnel sloped downward, and the Vandal thought she could hear a strange noise echoing from deeper within.

«Do you hear that?»

_«Hear what?»_

«It is…» she tried to place the sound, «It is like crying.»

_«My scanner is picking up something ahead. Be careful, Guardian.»_

The Ghost silently slipped back into her Light as the Vandal continued forward, her cautious steps sounding loud in the silence. Eventually the concrete and iron tunnel opened into a large, dimly-lit cave—the handful of lights that still worked illuminated a grisly scene.

A battle took place here: several dozen scorched and broken bodies lay scattered around the cave floor. Some were grouped in what seemed to be defensive positions around rocky outcroppings and bulky storage containers, while others were facing towards deeper tunnels they never reached. Quietly the Vandal tread through this sea of death, pausing every so often to inspect the remains. No other names surfaced.

She sighed and clicked her mandibles sharply in agitation underneath her helm. Her Ghost reappeared by her side and nudged up against her shoulder. She placed a weary hand on the round shell.

«I suppose I have my answer now…»

 _«Do you still hear that noise?»_ The Ghost asked cautiously, peering around.

The Vandal tilted her head, straining to listen for the strange sound, which she’d almost forgotten in the shock of finding this tragedy. She could still hear it—the noise seemed to be coming from a deeper passage further on. She nodded and quietly continued forward.

Stopping to listen again when they reached a juncture, the Ghost chirped.

_«I’m picking up something on radar, down that passage.»_

Treading carefully, the Vandal noticed a sickly light illuminating the room ahead and signaled for her Ghost to disappear once again. Coming around the corner they discovered another scene of carnage. Scraps of metal littered the ground and several large burns dotted the walls and ceiling—one particularly large chunk of metal indicated these were once shanks. But in the corner lay a large metallic sphere with a glowing iris at its center—the source of the light.

The Vandal crouched down and gently placed a primary hand on the dying Servitor, feeling it tremble in response. She could see directly inside its chassis—several vicious holes punctured its side—one panel was completely missing, wires and internal parts spilling onto the ground. Erratic pulsing lights traveled slowly to the central iris as a low, undulating hum filled the air.

However, the Vandal thought she could hear something underneath the hum; something like a whisper. She carefully removed her helm and pressed her forehead against the rounded side of the Servitor. It was warm, and she felt the vibrations of failing systems, the shudder of dying processes. But also a voice.

|| … ||

|| Couldn’t… ||

|| Couldn’t protect them ||

The damaged Servitor fitfully rocked in place and she began to stroke the machine gently. «You did what you could,» she murmured, «now rest.»

|| Can still… ||

|| Can still give to you ||

The Vandal started to feel an ethereal chill surrounding her—she opened her eyes and found herself encased in a soft purple glow that flowed from the Servitor. The light weaved its way around her, wrapping around her limbs in a strangely familiar cold embrace. She sensed her Ghost becoming worried.

 _Don’t think it means me harm_ , the Vandal reassured her silently.

The glow did not last for much longer—the dying machine subsequently gave a violent shudder from the exertion and the light dissipated. The Servitor groaned and the Vandal could hear it speak once more as its central iris finally faded.

|| You are already… blessed ||

The Vandal remained still, allowing the damp cold of the cave to seep into her limbs as her mind drifted through a haze of loss she still didn’t understand. Eventually her Ghost nudged her internally, sending comfort through their connection. It clarified her mind—the Vandal then stood and pulled the ropes from her pack. There was work to be done.

❖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to have annotations like the ones below for many of these chapters—I try to include details based on canon whenever possible. There's a reason that Chronicler was my first in-game title 🤓
> 
>  **Lore Referenced**  
> \- The Vandal is dreaming of Riis, the homeworld of the Eliksni that was abandoned during the Whirlwind ([Mystery: The Vault of Glass](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/cards/mystery-the-vault-of-glass); [Dreams of Alpha Lupi: Riis](https://www.destinypedia.com/Dreams_of_Alpha_Lupi#Riis)) ▲  
> \- The Kell of Stone is mentioned briefly in two entries—it is implied that Chelchis and their House stayed behind to fight the Darkness ([Broken Crown](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/items/broken-crown); [Doom of Chelchis](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/items/doom-of-chelchis)) ▲  
> \- The Lost Sector is based on Scavenger's Den, one of my favorites


	2. Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Vandal performs a burial and the Ghost receives her name.

|| Weaver, you are forgotten no more ||

|| Take up the tattered skein ||

❖

The pyre wasn’t large, but the Vandal hoped it would be enough. It took several hours of hard, solemn labor to build and would hopefully continue to burn long after they’d left.

She wasn’t quite certain _why_ she needed to do this—but her Ghost didn’t question her actions and for that she was grateful. Though the Vandal could not remember these Eliksni, knowing she’d once been one of their own filled her with an unspoken obligation to them. She would ensure their remains were treated with respect.*

Once the pyre was set alight, the Vandal stood back and simply watched the flames, the red glow reflected in her glistening eyes. Her Ghost appeared beside her, radiating support through their bond and sharing in the mourning. Eventually she asked a question.

_«What did the Servitor say?»_

«… You could not hear it?»

_«I could tell it was trying to communicate, but it was hard to decipher.»_

The Vandal was intrigued by this newfound limitation of her Ghost, but didn’t comment on it. Her little friend had demonstrated that she was capable of so much in their rather short time together—but all things had limitations it seemed. She quietly contemplated her encounter with the Servitor.

«It was in pain—it felt guilty that it couldn’t protect them, the others. Then it… wanted to bless me. I’m not sure what it meant by that.»

_«You probably don’t remember, but a similar thing happened before. Right before we left this place. We were trying to sneak out and it spoke to you. It… gave you ether, since you’d recently been docked and needed it.»_

The Vandal stretched her lower arms then folded them across her middle. She had a question of her own but was hesitant to ask.

«Do you think Guardians did this?»

She turned her head slightly to look at her companion better—the Ghost’s iris was dimmed and her shell spun slowly. She blinked a few times before answering.

_«Most likely. It’s hard to say for certain, though I did find traces of multiple Light signatures…»_ she trailed off in a bit of static. _«I’m sorry.»_

«It is not your fault.» she gazed at the flames once more. «We should leave soon. The smoke will probably attract attention.»

The little light nodded solemnly and disappeared. The Risen hefted her pack—now heavier with some parts and supplies they’d recovered, and took one final look at the pyre. She felt compelled to say something, as a final goodbye. Eventually a phrase rose from the void, something that had been in one of the poems.

«The circle continues unbroken,» the Vandal whispered quietly.

_And with it we rise,_ her Ghost finished.

\---

Both the Vandal and Ghost remained quiet after leaving the cave, making the trek back home in mindful silence. But eventually thoughts became too heavy to remain unsaid.

«Why are my people at war?» she asked aloud.

_Do you mean the Eliksni? Or the Guardians?_

«Both, I suppose.»

_«It was a long time ago,»_ the Ghost began, appearing alongside her partner. _«I don’t think anyone knows for sure when the Eliksni first came to this solar system—it probably happened sometime during the Collapse. But we know that they came here in search of the Great Machine—those poems we found confirms that—and that they were trying to escape whatever the Whirlwind was. I don’t know what happened when they first arrived here though…»_

She looked to her Chosen, iris full of regret, _«The people of Earth have been fighting for a very, very long time on many fronts—against the Fallen, against other forces that found their way here, sometimes even against each other, back when there were Warlords. It’s unfortunate that humanity has had to continue fighting, even after all this time.»_

The Vandal listened quietly, shoulders drooping. «Perhaps… perhaps it has been too long to hope for peace between them.»

_«I wouldn’t say that—just look at us!»_

«Have you seen another Guardian like me though? A _Fallen?_ » she spat the word out with a mixture of pain and frustration, snapping her mandibles sharply. The Ghost blinked at her slowly a few times.

_«You might be the first, but I don’t think you’re the only one. The Traveler led me to you for a reason. I’ve been thinking about it—there are plenty of other Ghosts who haven’t found their Chosen yet. Maybe once they’ve heard about us, they will start to find other Eliksni with the Light!»_ The Ghost flooded their bond with optimism—the Vandal couldn’t help but feel encouraged at her raw enthusiasm.

«You give me hope, little one.» she chucked, thinking about it for a moment. «Perhaps that should be your name.»

_«Hope?»_

«If you like.»

The Ghost seemed pensive, then chirped happily.

_«I love it!»_ Hope exclaimed, _«But what about you?»_

«I will find my name in time. You could say… I’m hopeful.» the Ghost froze in mid air, then spun around to bump into her affectionately with a laugh—which the Eliksni joined, trilling warmly. It felt good to laugh. The mood was lightened somewhat, though the Vandal continued to quietly consider their discussion for the remainder of the journey.

Darkness had fallen by the time they reached the cave—they’d been able to avoid being seen by any of the patrols, due to the Vandal’s uncanny instinct for staying out of sight. Once settled, the Vandal retrieved the new supplies from her pack and laid them out neatly with other materials they’d scavenged. She considered them pensively.

«Hope?» the little light shimmered into being next to her, enthusiastically responding to her new name. «How long do you think a journey to the Last City would take?»

_«Quite a while, especially on foot… wait, do you actually want to go there?»_

«I have been avoiding it for too long—though I am still not sure how other Guardians will react to me, I must at least try to make peace for my people. To show them that not all Eliksni are Fallen. Perhaps that is why the Traveler chose… us.»

As she spoke, she felt a mixture of excitement and worry flooding their bond from her companion. The Vandal reached out toward her Ghost, who nestled close with a sigh.

_«I think you’re right, Guardian.»_

\---

She did not dream of pink skies that evening.

Instead, a star-filled night permeated her view, stretching past the edges of her sight. As she stood in the twilight, she could faintly hear singing—a distant melody carried on a wind that she couldn’t quite hold on to.

Before her hung a softly-glowing orb and she was filled with peace.

❖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Lore Referenced**  
> \- Servitors create ether from organic compounds, so I'm sharing the headcannon of [Schnikeys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schnikeys/pseuds/Schnikeys) and [zapperthecat]() that a proper Eliksni burial involves processing the bodies into ether as a symbol of circularity; but since the Vandal has no Servitor, she does the next best thing ([WANTED: Beltrik the Veiled](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/cards/wanted-beltrik-the-veiled)) ▲  
> \- This AU is based on the idea that Eliksni could also become Guardians—but the concept isn't _completely_ canon divergent. The Ghost who rezzed Savin initially thought their Chosen was a Fallen and went through with it anyways, implying that it's possible ([Ghost Stories: Savin](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/savin-2))


	3. The Naming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope and the Vandal begin their journey to the Last City.
> 
> [content warning: temporary character death]

In the morning, the Vandal made preparations to leave—she cleaned and made some adjustments to what few weapons they’d come across, and her Ghost disassembled and stored everything else in abeyance in her internal system. She kept a few things in her pack: a small canister of ether and several smoke bombs, as well as some food. They would need to scavenge for more eventually, but for now there was enough.

While she’d slept, her Ghost had plotted a path that would soon take them beyond the edges of the furthest area they had scouted. The journey to the City would be long*, but Hope believed that they would eventually be able to procure some kind of transport—perhaps even a pike. The Vandal had seen other Eliksni riding them and liked this plan.

As she went to leave the cave, the Vandal placed a hand on one of the rocks near the entrance.

«This has been a good place. Perhaps we will find others.»

_«I’ve marked it in my database. If you ever want to come back.»_

«Thank you. Hopefully we will not need to,» she said softly, running a claw along the stone while gripping the spear shaft tightly with another hand. The Vandal nodded to Hope and they set out for the Last City.

\---

A day and a half later they came across a small group of Fallen with pikes. The Vandal kept herself hidden and observed: one of the vehicles was smoking profusely, and there seemed to be more pikes then riders. Two wretched Dregs and a soot-covered Vandal sat nearby—they were weary but still on-edge from whatever tribulation they’d just encountered.

She hesitated to make herself known to the small group, but her Ghost nudged her onwards. _Relax, it’ll be fine—I’ll be here with you the whole time. We’re just going to see if they’d be willing to trade for one of those pikes._

The Vandal nodded and walked forward. Eventually one of the Dregs spotted her, shoving the one next to them and saying something she couldn’t quite hear. The first spun around and hurried over to the harried-looking Vandal that seemed to be leading the small crew. She walked up to the remaining Dreg, who eyed her suspiciously.

«Greetings,» she said warmly.

The Dreg, who smelled masculine, just squinted both sets of eyes at her. She felt him studying her, his gaze lingering on the dingy cloak around her neck.

«What do you want, Exile?» he eventually asked in a thick, unfamiliar accent.*

«I want one of these pikes—if you’re willing to trade.»

His eyes brightened in surprise and he clicked his mandibles a few times. The Dreg looked back to the other Vandal, who was now stalking towards them, the other Dreg following close behind. «Not my decision. Speak with Nakris.»

The Risen nodded and focused on the approaching Vandal, noting the wire rifle in their hands. She raised her arms in a peaceful gesture.

«What crew are you from?» they asked roughly, adjusting their grip on the weapon. «What do you want?»

«No crew. I want to trade for one of the pikes.»

Nakris scoffed and narrowed their outer eyes, giving her a once-over. «I see. And what would an _Exile_ have to exchange?»

«I can help repair the damage,» she offered, «I have tools.»

She didn’t understand why they all kept calling her by that name, but assumed it was due to her cloak and because she was alone. The group wore somewhat matching but ragged-looking purple garments with a white glyph. _House Dusk,_ her Ghost explained.

«You have splicer* training?» the Vandal asked, sounding incredulous. She nodded and they continued, «Fine. If you can fix the worse-off one then you can keep it. But start with the others first—and make it quick.»

She bowed to Nakris and walked to the nearest pike, which was still smoking. Behind her one of the Dregs began to argue with the lead Vandal briefly—saying something about not trusting exiles—but they were gruffly ordered to shut up and keep watch. The Dreg grumbled and walked away.

The other one approached her—the heavily accented one she’d spoken to first—and stared curiously as she pulled out some tools from her pack. The Dreg plopped down nearby and appeared to be keeping watch. But eventually he started casually playing with the shock blade in his primary hand, twirling and throwing it in the air.

«Why are you alone?» the Dreg asked after a while.

«My crew… they were all killed.» she half-lied as she carefully removed a slug from the side of the pike. It was still hot and burned her hand—she grunted in pain as she tossed it aside. There was fresh blood smeared across the seat. She tried to focus on the job in front of her, rather than the blood or the slight smell of suspicion now emanating from the Dreg. 

«What do you do for ether then?»

The Vandal soon realized two things: that there probably wasn’t much she would be able to do to fix this particular pike—the damage was fairly severe and she didn’t have the right tools—and that she didn’t know how to respond to the Dreg’s question without raising more questions.

Suddenly Hope pinged her radar— _Something is coming this way,_ she said worriedly. _Fast._

The Vandal glanced up in time to see the trailing flare of a rocket speeding towards them. She yelled for the Dreg to take cover, but it was swallowed up by the explosion of hot, burning light and deafening sound.

\---

It was white and warm and empty.

She floated in nothingness, unbothered by the timelessness of this space.

The white eventually transitioned to a lovely pink color, like the sky in her dreams. The Vandal slowly glanced around, half-expecting to see lush plants and waterways. Instead, the emptiness stretched on endlessly.

The sky—she assumed it was the sky because it was above her—shifted colors again, becoming a pale blue that continued to deepen. She was no longer floating, her feet finding purchase in shifting sands. She looked up to see a shape beginning to appear.

A white sphere, softly radiating a warm light, was hanging in the sky.

She heard a voice.

|| Weaver… ||

It echoed through infinity and resonated within her very bones.

|| Weaver... ||

The word repeated over and over.

|| Weaver ||

Slowly the voice began to shift in timbre, the word morphing to something new. She realized she could hear her Ghost calling to her.

_«Come here. Come back.»_

She turned toward the sound of Hope and reached out.

\---

The Vandal gasped as she awoke, sitting upright. She wasn’t used to the feeling of returning, so the first few moments were still disorienting. But the name continued to echo in her mind.

«Ilaasan.» she said with a cough.

Her Ghost chirped, beginning to condense back down to her regular form as the shell drew together seamlessly. Several hours had passed and it was growing dark—Hope had wanted to be sure it was safe before bringing back her Chosen. It had been a long and lonely wait.

 _«What did you say?»_ she asked softly.

«Ilaasan. I think… that is my name.»

_«It’s beautiful.»_

The Vandal now named Ilaasan* began to look around, now that her senses clarified. The explosion that killed her had thrown her body backwards and away from the charred and smoldering remains of the pike. She couldn’t see any of the others.

_«You were attacked, Ilaasan. They took the pikes.»_

Ilaasan nodded tiredly and stood up. She could sense from her Ghost’s clipped explanation that the attackers were probably Guardians. Which was unfortunate—she still hadn’t had a chance to speak with other Risen. She surveyed the area, noting the strangeness of the lack of bodies.

 _«Sometimes Light leaves nothing behind.»_ Hope explained quietly.

«Ah. Have you found my tools?»

_«Gone, I’m afraid. I can make you new ones with some of the glimmer we have.»_

«Eventually. Perhaps we should find somewhere to camp for the evening first.»

It didn’t take Ilaasan very long to find a suitable spot—she had a knack for finding hidden places. Hope liked to say that it was due to her “Hunter Instinct”, but the little light hadn’t yet explained what that meant. 

The small cave she’d found was tucked into the side of the mountain, a downed tree obscuring the entrance. Hope chirped happily and transmitted some supplies from storage while the Vandal built a small fire.

Once they were settled Ilaasan began to think about what she’d experienced.

«I think I had a dream» she explained to her Ghost. «While I was… dead.» 

She said the last part questioningly—but Hope just bobbed slowly, sending encouragement through their bond and coaxing her to continue.

«But the only thing I can remember is that name. My name. Someone spoke and I knew it was me. Do Risen usually have dreams like this?»

Her Ghost was contemplative. _«I’m not sure. Some Warlocks* believe they can see visions of the future or their past life when they die—but killing oneself on purpose seems a little gruesome if you ask me. But in any case it’s a good name. I like it.»_

«Yes, I suppose so.» Ilaasan said softly, wondering what it could mean.

❖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ilaasan finally receives her name!
> 
>  **Lore Referenced**  
> \- Based Suraya's comment that the Farm is a "long flight" from where she picked up The Guardian and a conversation between Eva and Tess that spans different timezones, the Last City is pretty far from the EDZ ([Transcript: Adieu](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/transcripts/adieu); [Eva's Journey: Invisible Scars](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/invisible-scars)) [▲]  
> \- House Dusk is a unification of several different Houses—each seeming to have their own dialect and accent. Ilaasan has a Wolf accent while Hope's is a mix of Wolf... and Judgement 🤫 ([Adventure: A Frame Job](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/transcripts/adventure-a-frame-job)) ▲  
> \- Splicers are a sect within the Fallen hierarchy that comprise their best scientists and engineers; in her first life Ila would have eventually become one ([Transcript: The Plaguelands](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/transcripts/the-plaguelands)) ▲  
> \- Ilaasan's name is derived from the Eliksni name for the House of Wolves, _Mraskilaasan_ , or Gentle Weavers ([Lord of Wolves](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/lord-of-wolves)) ▲  
> \- Thanatonauts are... interesting ([Ghost Fragment: Exo 2](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/cards/ghost-fragment-exo-2)) ▲


	4. The Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ilaasan and Hope make a new friend.
> 
> [content warning: temporary character death]

High atop a rusted and crumbling building, a Hunter surveyed the woody, ruin-dotted valley below. The hood of his cloak blocked what little sunlight filtered through the cloudy sky, allowing him to look through the scope of his sniper rifle with ease. Earlier he’d picked off a roving Cabal squad for a bounty—but otherwise things were relatively quiet.

Vince watched as a nervous Dreg scampered towards one of the bodies and began searching it for anything useful. It would have been an easy shot—winds were low and the angle perfect. He shook his head with chagrin and removed his finger from the trigger. Shooting Fallen _used_ to be fun.

Sweeping his rifle slightly left, he spotted the rest of the Dreg’s crew—they were smarter, hanging back and staying low, wary of an unexpected bullet. The Guardian watched them for a while before eventually leaning back with a bored sigh. It’d been some time since Vince had been out in the field alone like this, he’d forgotten how dull it could get with no one to talk to.

He felt his Ghost practically side-eye him through their connection, _You know I’m right here?_

“Of course,” he answered aloud, “but you’ve been going over those old field reports all morning and they’re about as interesting as watching paint dry.”

_Right. Do you want me to start reading romance novels instead?_

“It depends. You got any more like ‘Hunter of the Heart’*?” He chuckled as he returned to watching the Fallen—his Ghost sighed wearily.

The reckless Dreg had rejoined their crew empty-handed and began to trot along behind as they scurried deeper between the buildings. The Hunter watched them go, hoping that they wouldn’t cause any trouble later on.

A flicker of movement caught his eye. Vince adjusted his rifle and cursed softly for being distracted by the group. But the glint of metal he’d spotted was not from a scope as he’d worried—instead it was the tip of a spear, held low to the ground and carried by a lonely Vandal. The Hunter watched them curiously. 

Darting across an open space, the Vandal stopped to crouch near a rusted out vehicle, scenting the air. The cloak around their neck was splattered with mud. Underneath the grime however the fabric was a faded green, not the purple most Fallen now wore. An exile? He watched as they peered around cautiously before holding out a hand with an upturned palm. A small metallic sphere appeared above it with a shimmer.

The Hunter’s eyes widened with surprise. What was that Eliksni doing with a Ghost? Vince adjusted the scope carefully and calmed his breathing while trying to get a better look. His Ghost sensed the shift in demeanor.

 _Wait… is that a Ghost?_ Magpie asked in surprise, now noticing the pair.

“Looks like it. And I’m pretty sure they’re… talking.”

Though the Vandal was wearing a helm which covered their mouth, Vince was convinced: the dips and shakes of their head, the movement of their arms, the way the Ghost seemed to bob in response—they were _conversing_.

“Magpie, prepare to send a message to Amirrah and Mithrax. I think they’re gonna want to know about this.”

\---

A short time later the Hunter was back on the ground, carefully tracking the strange pair. It hadn’t taken long to catch up with them—the Vandal moved slowly and cautiously, trying to avoid detection. They held to the coast, which would have kept them inconspicuous from most, had the Cabal mining crew not showed up.

The air grew hot as a Thresher passed overhead and several drop pods crashed along the shore. Vince swore loudly and dove for cover as a few slugs flew over his head from the arriving Legionaries. He glanced to his target—the green-cloaked Vandal seemed to panic, dropping low and sprinting away from the site desperately, trying to find somewhere safe to hide.

He lost sight of them for a moment in the chaos as other Guardians soon arrived to interrupt the mining crew’s plans. The Hunter ignored the alert being sent out by Devrim and tried to focus, searching the coastline-turned-battlefield for the Vandal as he pulled out a sidearm. Luckily they weren’t near any of the Towers or this would _really_ turn this into a shitshow, he thought cynically, and his Ghost agreed.

There—near a sandy outcrop, huddled against a partially submerged log. It was hard to tell from the distance, but the Ghost seemed to have disappeared as the Fallen tucked closer into cover, the dirty cloak and armor now caked with sandy mud. Checking the chaos behind him briefly, Vince began to make his way closer. 

However, another Guardian headed towards the fray also noticed the Vandal; before the Hunter could stop them it was over. Several shots rang out over the din, followed by the hiss of escaping ether. Hand cannon smoking from the expelled bullets, the Warlock nodded to the Hunter as they rushed past to reach the larger battle underway.

Vince approached the now unfortunate scene with a sigh—the Vandal was definitely dead, several rounds in their chest as blood and ether dripped from the wounds. He couldn’t see anything immediately different about this Eliksni—save for the green cloak—but something about them felt different. The Ghost was still nowhere in sight. The Hunter lingered for a moment, then decided to take up a hiding place nearby. It was time to see if his hunch was correct.

\---

An hour or so later, after the commotion with the mining crew had calmed down, Vince finally spied the mysterious Ghost. It carefully snuck out of its hiding spot, hovering over the body of the Vandal. The iris scanned around thoroughly—perhaps checking that the coast was clear—before turning back towards the body.

“Hey, buddy! Hold on a second,” the Hunter called out, getting up quickly from his hiding spot and hopping over the log as he sprinted over.

The Ghost analyzed him nervously, glancing between him and the Vandal.

“Just wait. Don’t rez them yet.”

 _“Why not? What do you want?”_ the wary Ghost demanded.

“It’s just uh… not really safe here, you know? Gets kinda noisy sometimes. Let me take ‘em somewhere quiet.” He gestured to the body.

The Ghost didn’t respond immediately, but eventually, _“Be careful with her. Please.”_

* * *

Hope didn’t know anything about this Guardian, but the way he gently carried Ilaasan put her somewhat more at ease. She hadn’t realized how much larger the Vandal actually was compared to a human, but this Hunter seemed to be doing alright. She floated nearby and continued to scan for any hostiles.

 _Don’t worry,_ his Ghost said reassuringly through a private channel. _He’s a good guy._

 _It’s not only him I’m worried about,_ she replied.

They made their way toward some ruined buildings further up the hill—the same place she had been directing Ilaasan to earlier before the Cabal crew and that trigger-happy Guardian had showed up. Everything had happened so fast.

She’d heard that time between deaths didn’t matter so much to Guardians, but it still made Hope feel uneasy that she couldn’t immediately bring Ilaasan back. But the Hunter was right, this was a dangerous area. The cloaking device had short-circuited ages ago, and they’d been hoping to scavenge something for it before getting any closer to any human settlements.

Stepping inside a partially obscured doorway overgrown with vines, the hooded Guardian carefully set Ilaasan down and glanced back at the two Ghosts.

“I’m just going to check that it’s clear,” he said to them before slipping away.

 _Aren’t you going to…?_ Hope started to ask the other Ghost.

 _Nah, he’ll be fine,_ they replied. _I’m used to him going off on his own._

Hope wondered quietly about this—her connection to her own Guardian was still new, and she feared traveling too far from her. But maybe with time she’d become as confident as these two.

A few minutes later the Hunter returned with a thumbs up and hefted the body gently. The small group ventured further inside the structure and through a collapsed wall also covered with more vines, leading to a small secluded courtyard. The ground here seemed to have originally been tiled, but soft tufts of green moss blanketed the space from where it sprouted up between the cracks.

The Hunter carefully set the Vandal back down again, leaning her up against a pile of rubble in a sitting position. She might have been sleeping with how softly he rearranged her. Standing up, he looked back to Hope.

“I’m gonna just go over there. Don’t want to spook her.” He motioned to another doorway at the other edge of the courtyard. “Just uh, holler, when you want me to come out.”

Hope nodded and watched him walk away, quietly saying something to his Ghost that she couldn’t quite hear as they disappeared through the dark doorway. When the Hunter was out of sight, she began to resurrect her Chosen.

* * *

Ilaasan coughed as she awoke, her muscles immediately tensing and her eyes darting around, instinctively looking for danger. She panted loudly into her helm before ripping it away from her face and tossed it aside, causing her cloak to slip.

As her vision solidified she finally noticed Hope floating beside her and instantly relaxed. The Vandal reached out for her small friend and trilled, the Ghost brushing against her outstretched hand affectionately.

_«Welcome back! Did you… dream again?»_

«No dream this time. Wait… Where are we?» she asked hesitantly, her mandibles clicking in confusion. It was beautiful and quiet here, different from the chaos she remembered last. She recalled splashing through water, the smell of burning, a shadow overhead—then nothing.

_«We’re not too far from where you fell. It’s safe here… Someone brought you here.»_

Ilaasan glanced nervously around at this response, «Who?»

 _«Well—»_ a cough from behind interrupted the Ghost’s reply. They both turned to look as a figure emerged from the doorway, a Ghost floating alongside. Their hands were raised, showing they were unarmed, but Ilaasan still eyed the weapon at their hip. An unconscious rumble began emanating from her chest.

“Sorry, couldn’t wait any longer,” they chuckled, “I was curious.”

The figure noticed the slight growl coming from the Vandal and stopped several paces away. They continued to keep their hands raised but cocked their head and the Ghost next to them spun their shell slowly.

 _«Don’t worry, he’s a friend.»_ Hope explained.

«Friend?» she glanced nervously at her Ghost, unwilling to take her eyes off him.

“Now I’m a little rusty at speaking, but let’s see…” the figure straightened up then bowed low, sweeping an arm out. «Greetings, Guardian-sister. I am Vince Corvo. I am proud-being to make meeting of you.»

His Eliksni was rough, but the gesture in itself was profound and unexpected. Ilaasan stopped growling and just stared at the bowing Risen, unsure how to respond for a moment. Hope nudged her gently and the Vandal snapped out of her surprise.

« _Velask_ , Vince. I can speak Guardian way if it's easier.»

Though the helmet he wore obscured his face, she got the distinct impression he was relieved. He finally righted himself and placed a hand on his hip—the side without the gun.

“So you know how to talk like this?”

“Some,” she replied, “Hope has well-taught. I been called Ilaasan.”

“This is fantastic!” Vince said enthusiastically, sitting down cross legged nearby the Vandal. “So if you don’t mind me asking, how long… how long have y’all been partnered?”

Ilaasan didn’t quite recognise some of the words he used, but through her neural connection to Hope she eventually understood his question.

“Hard-said,” she mused, reaching for what she’d been taught. “Perhaps quarter cycle?”

She looked to her Ghost, who had mostly kept quiet during the exchange.

 _“Correct! It’s been almost seven dozen days since I first brought you back, though we have been together a bit longer. Unfortunately you don’t remember that…”_ Hope trailed off.

Ilaasan felt a slight pang of sadness from her Ghost, which in turn made her feel guilty.

“That’s alright, I don’t remember anything from my previous life either,” the Hunter said warmly to her. He motioned to the discarded helmet laying nearby. “You know, I can take mine off too, if that would make you feel better.”

Ilaasan nodded slowly in reply, now somewhat curious about what this other Guardian looked like. She couldn’t remember if she had ever seen a human up close before. He reached up to the clasps at his neck and unlatched them—a slight hiss of air escaped as Vince removed the helm.

His lack of mandibles and secondary eyes surprised her, as did the mop of messy dark hair. Humans were strange looking: soft faces and too much hair. Hope quietly commented that he was actually fairly handsome—Ilaasan took her word for it, though was still concerned by the dimness of his dark-colored eyes. How did humans see anything?

He ran a hand through the hair and showed his teeth. “That’s better. So where are you headed? Are you two… on your own?”

“No others. We… I wish to see the Light-giver, the Traveler. And Last City.”

“Well you’re headed the right direction at least. A bit of a dangerous journey though—and a long one—but it’ll get you there eventually. Are you gonna hike it the whole way?”

“Hike?”

“You know, walk.”

“Ah, yes. Was searching for…” she glanced to her Ghost, unable to recall the word.

_“A pike.”_

“Searching for pike. To trade… or steal.”

He snorted and laughed at this, “I like your style, that would definitely make things go quicker. But what about after that? After you got to the City?”

He stared at Ilaasan curiously—she didn’t quite know how to read human expressions, but this one didn’t feel threatening or hostile. She looked to Hope again and then down at her hands as she began fidgeting with the hem of her cloak.

“I been… not knowing. Glad Hope chose me, but always-worry for future. Guardians will see old-enemy, but I seek only peace. Want to serve Light.”

Vince carefully reached over and hesitated before patting her leg reassuringly. The Vandal reflexively tensed but didn’t shy away from the touch. “You’re not the only Eliksni who wants that.”

She tilted her head questioningly.

 _“What do you mean?”_ asked Hope, floating towards him.

“There’s a Capt—a _Kell_ who’s trying to bring together all the peaceful Eliksni. He’s forming a new House, a House of Light. His name is Mithrax. And he’s one of my best friends. I think you should meet him.”

The Ghost chirped happily and turned back to the Vandal, excitement flooding their neural connection. Ilaasan was confused, clicking her mandibles doubtfully.

“Look, I can tell you don’t believe me—a few years ago I wouldn’t have believed myself either. But Mithrax is, well, dedicated; and frankly kinda inspiring. He leads my fireteam, as well as an entire crew of Eliksni who would follow him to the ends of the universe. And we all want the same thing—to protect the Traveler and forge peace between our people.”

 _“This is fantastic!”_ Hope exclaimed.

Ilaasan remained quiet, considering what the Hunter had told them.

“Where been the Kell now?” she asked eventually.

“Well, him and my pal Amirrah are still out near the Reef, but I had Magpie here send a message to them earlier.” He gestured towards his Ghost, who had drifted away to inspect a nearby plant. They chirped in response then returned to scanning. Vince chuckled and looked back to the Vandal warmly, “He wants to meet you.”

He showed his teeth again, but the twinkle in his eyes told her it wasn’t a show of aggression. Hope said this was a smile—a sign of friendliness.

 _“The Reef?”_ Hope interjected when her partner remained silent. 

“Yeah, they had… a meeting. But they’re on their way back. And that should give us enough time to get to the Farm.”

“Farm?” Ilaasan asked.

“It’s a settlement out here. Some of us regrouped there during the Red Legion’s attack, but these days it’s a little more quiet. Figured it would be a safe spot for a rendezvous”—another word she didn’t understand—“but only if you want to come. No one's forcing you.”

The Vandal chittered softly a moment, mulling her options over. She’d only just met this man, but her Ghost trusted him and he seemed kind. Perhaps… perhaps it was fate that they would meet this other Risen.

Ilaasan eventually nodded her head in agreement. Vince beamed at her.

“Alright! Hey Magpie!” he said, waving at his Ghost. “Mind charting us a path to the Farm, preferably away from some of the more Guardian-heavy areas?”

 _“Hope you two are ready for some hiking,”_ they responded dryly.

“Maybe we can finally find that pike you’re looking for.” Vince closed one eye while looking at Ilaasan, and she cocked her head in confusion at the gesture. 

He laughed and stood, dusting off his legs and extending a hand towards Ilaasan. “Are you alright to travel? I remember that coming back usually takes a bit of getting used to.”

She looked at the hand then grasped it with one of her own.

“Fine now. A worthy hardship-path we travel.”

The Hunter chuckled, “I can already tell you two are going to get along _just_ fine.”

❖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Lore Referenced**  
> \- I kid you not, “The Hunter of the Heart” is a book that exists—Banshee got it as a Dawning gift one year ([Dawning Delights: It's the Feeling That Counts](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/its-the-feeling-that-counts?highlight=hunter+of+the+heart)) ▲


	5. Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vince teaches Ilaasan about using the Light. They also find a pike.
> 
> [content warning: violence and temporary character death]

The Hunter and the Vandal traveled quickly and quietly—he led them through a series of narrow passages between the ruined buildings and down into tunnels that wound their way underneath what had once been a small city. Ilaasan was surprised and glad to have someone skilled in keeping hidden. Her Ghost silently agreed, _He must be really familiar with this area._

Ilaasan had so many questions for the Hunter that it was difficult to parse through which to ask first—she’d never met another Risen before. Were they all so confident and well meaning? Stopping at the mouth of the tunnel, Vince motioned for the Vandal to wait and peered outward. After a while he turned back to her.

“So I get that you’re still new and all, but got any idea which class you are yet?”

“Class?” she wondered.

 _“I haven’t been able to determine yet,”_ Hope chirped, appearing alongside her. _“She’s smart and curious, and really good at understanding and fixing things.”_

“So maybe a Warlock?” More strange words. Though he glanced toward the open square every so often, his helm facing her Ghost.

 _“That’s what I thought at first, but she’s also very good at hunting and tracking and staying hidden. We’ve even found some places that haven’t been marked yet as lost sectors.”_

“Sounds more like a Hunter to me.”

_“Right? The cloak fits her well. So it’s hard to say exactly. Perhaps with time we’ll figure it out. I’m also not quite sure which energy affinity she’ll take to—”_

“What are you speaking of?” Ilaasan interrupted. Her Ghost drew her shell together in a wince and twirled it guiltily.

 _“Sorry, got carried away. Well the Guardians are organized into different groups—called classes—based on their abilities and how they use the Light. We haven’t really talked about this too much because we’re still… figuring things out.”_

“These classes. Hierarchy? Ranks?”

Vince chuckled, “Well Titans tend to take the lead, but I wouldn’t say they’re _above_ any of the other classes. Unless you count what happened during the Games.” He said the last part somewhat under his breath, and Ilaasan got the sense that something happened that he did not want to elaborate on.

“You are which?” she asked instead.

“I’m a Hunter. A Gunslinger”

The Vandal huffed softly, nodding her head. “Hope has said before that I perhaps been Hunter. Can find things. Quiet-step. But what being a Gunslinger?”

“Well, it means that I wield my Light in the form of a gun—usually* a classic six-shooter, like the ‘slingers of old,” he said almost reverently, “You know, I can show you if you want!”

Ilaasan nodded vigorously—Hope had tried to teach her to use the Light, but her attempts always seemed to come up short. Perhaps seeing it demonstrated would help.

“Let’s find a good spot first, somewhere a little quieter.”

He motioned to the two Interceptors that finally passed by loudly, kicking up dirt and exhaust fumes in their wake. As the Cabal retreated from view the pair dashed across the square and entered the forest once more. Ilaasan felt some tension leave her body—she was more at ease amongst the trees and rocks, the soft dirt beneath her feet instead of hard cement.

Eventually they came to a clearing, an open meadow with the remains of what seemed to be a fence running through it. The old wood and steel construction had mostly collapsed in several places, but Vince became visibly excited when he spotted it.

“This’ll be perfect! Hang on.” Ilaasan held back, watching curiously while he rushed over to a section of the fence that still remained. She gave a questioning look to her Ghost, who seemed just as excited as the Hunter.

_«This is fantastic—I’ve been looking forward to you learning about using your Light!»_

Vince jogged back over to them. He had placed several rocks along the top of the fence, spaced somewhat apart. He’d also removed his helm—Ilaasan could see a spark gleaming in his eyes.

“Alright, so the way that works for me is to, well, start by picturing the gun.”

He held up a hand to demonstrate, “I sort of picture the handle, imagine the warmth of the Light, and then—” a burst of fire swelled around his hand, forming into a shining hand cannon wreathed in flame. Ilaasan yelped in surprise, but calmed when she realized that Vince seemed perfectly at ease. The swell of energy she sometimes noticed emanating from him now blazed brightly.

He beamed with excitement at her before turning to fire several quick shots, the golden bullets finding each target with practiced precision.

Ilaasan watched with a mixture of exhilaration and nervousness. She could feel the Light radiating off him with each shot fired, the confidence and ease with which he moved. Perhaps she could become just as familiar with the Light as well.

It was over in a matter of moments. The golden weapon faded from his grasp and Vince grinned at her almost drunkenly.

“Never gets old,” he said enthusiastically. “Okay, now you try!”

The Vandal shrunk back at first but he grasped one of her arms and directed her to face the targets. Hope hovered nearby, watching with anticipation. Ilaasan eventually lifted a primary arm, cocking it at a similar angle to what he had done and looked at him questioningly.

“Now just think of the handle, and focus on that Light you’ve got inside. Then grab it.”

 _You can do this,_ Hope said to her gently over their neural link.

The Vandal closed her eyes, trying to imagine a weapon similar to what he had conjured. She could feel a stirring within her, a warm spark at her core. Carefully she imagined the spark moving to her hand so she could grasp it. With a deep breath she took hold—then shrieked in surprise.

Unlike the hot, golden flames that she had been trying to form, Ilaasan instead held a wild and erratically sparking bolt of electricity. Unexpected memories seared through her mind—a sword thrusting into her chest, a three-eyed monster roaring, the phantom pain of a burning current flowing through her entire body.

Gasping in alarm, Ilaasan tried to release the spark, throwing her arm away from herself and stepping backwards while trying to shield her face. She bumped up against something behind her and felt it grasp her shoulder. The Vandal froze fearfully as a distant voice spoke in a language she couldn’t recognise in her terror fog.

The flashing blue and white light continued to travel up her arm and in panic she spun, lashing out at the thing that gripped her in an effort to escape. The two were forced apart by the sudden bolt of energy that exploded between them.

Landing hard, the Vandal scrambled quickly to her feet, panting harshly as she stared at her arm then glanced at the other figure who lay a short distance away. Hope reappeared nearby.

 _«Are you okay?»_ she asked nervously—then more calmly. _«What happened?»_

«I don’t… know.»

The appearance of her Ghost began to bring Ilaasan back to reality. The fear that had gripped her mind slowly dissipated, shifting into a tiredness that settled heavily on her shoulders. She glanced at the other figure again and realized that he still hadn’t moved.

“Vince!” she called out, finally rushing over to the Hunter.

 _“Don’t worry,”_ said his Ghost calmly as it appeared with a shimmer. _“I’ve got him.”_

Ilaasan watched as the Ghost split apart, Light from their core spreading over Vince and radiating outward. His chest had several deep, ragged gashes and arc energy trailed in little sparks across his form—but the Light began to erase these. It was comforting to watch, easing some of the tension in her own body. A few moments later the Hunter coughed as he stirred.

“Damn, Ila. That’s quite the punch you got there,” he said with a chuckle. “You sure you’re not a Titan?”

The Vandal breathed a sigh of relief and offered to help him up. She easily steadied Vince with a couple hands then backed away nervously. She wrapped her lower arms around her waist before crouching, then pulled the hood of her cloak up sheepishly.

“I am sorry.”

“For what? Accidents happen. Luckily Magpie here is pretty great at what they do.”

She still felt guilty. Hope spoke to her reassuringly, _He’s alright Ilaasan. You don’t need to feel guilty, we can try it again._

«But I don’t know what happened!» Ilaasan replied aloud, glancing back at her Ghost and slipping into Eliksni. She tiredly placed a trembling hand over her face. «I _saw_ things. Memories perhaps, or nightmares. And the Light, it was wrong.»

“Nah, it wasn’t wrong. Just different.”

Vince walked over to the Vandal, moving to gently place an arm around her shoulders. She almost flinched away—but quiet reassurance from her Ghost kept her in place. Eventually Ilaasan leaned into his touch.

“I guess I should have told you that the Light takes different forms for some Guardians. Mine’s solar—you know, flames and such. Mira usually uses void, though I’ve also seen her do arc sometimes. That’s what you just did—arc. Lightning and zappy.” He wiggled his fingers and smiled warmly, “Some Guardians can even use all three, but it takes a bit of practice.”

“Is Light… been used against other Guardians?” she asked, trying to calm the fear in her voice.

“I can see where you’re going and again, don’t worry about it. You didn’t do anything wrong. And yes, in the Crucible it happens all the time.”

“Crucible?” Another strange word.

“Yeah, it’s like a competition for Guardians. A training ground of sorts run by one of the biggest Titans I’ve ever seen. Seriously, Shaxx is gigantic. I bet he wrestled bears as a kid.”

Hope chuckled at this and Ilaasan felt a little better.

“Should we try again? Or do you need a break?”

“Weary-made, now. Perhaps we attempt later.”

\---

They eventually found a pike—but unfortunately it sat in plain view of a Cabal squadron.

Ilaasan and Vince peered over the ridge, hidden behind the sparse vegetation and discussing what to do. They had come too late to do anything about the firefight between the squadron and small crew of now-dead Fallen. Ilaasan’s gaze lingered on their scorched corpses—Vince had to lightly tap her shoulder to get her attention again.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine—let’s run through the plan again.”

“You distract, I quiet-step. Regroup at ridge,” she pointed in the direction Hope had marked as a waypoint. “Ready.”

“Excellent. Good luck!” he said brightly with a nod and slipped down the hill, cloak flapping behind him. Ilaasan took a deep breath to steady herself and activated her newly-repaired cloaking device, heading in the opposite direction. Careful not to disturb any rocks she quietly made her way closer to the abandoned pike, taking a position behind an outcropping to await Vince’s signal.

The loud bark of a hand cannon followed by the shout of a Legionary caught the attention of the squadron. Ilaasan could hear the angry cries and grunts of the large Cabal soldiers, mixed with the high-pitched whine of a Psion. She heard his voice through her helm, “I think I got their attention!” 

Now was her chance—she sprinted towards the vehicle, head tucked low.

Unfortunately, one of the lumbering soldiers had knocked the pike over in the scramble to reposition, and Ilaasan had to struggle for a moment to set it back upright. She tried to keep calm despite the chaos of combat—luckily her cloak was maintaining, and Hope was able to keep track of the Cabal, noting them on the radar of Ilaasan’s helm.

The Vandal began to mount the pike when a sudden burst of flame collided with her shoulder. Her shielding shattered—and with it her cloaking. As she appeared a distant Psion shrieked in surprise and raised its rifle. A nearby Legionary turned to face her, rumbling a deep curse as a blade appeared at its wrist. 

Ilaasan’s eyes paled and she froze momentarily. But then her arms snapped upwards, bringing the rifle she was holding level with the creature’s chest. 

Several shots went wide or pinged harmlessly off the Cabal’s armor—they continued to take several menacing steps towards Ilaasan, undeterred. After a deep breath she adjusted her aim, aiming instead for the softer armor around the huge soldier’s neck as Vince had told her. One of the slugs found their mark, and the Cabal bellowed as some fluid began to spurt from the wound.

Taking this as her chance to escape, Ilaasan quickly moved her rifle to her other hands and started up the pike. Its engine roared and expelled hot air as it came to life. _Punch it!_ her Ghost yelped as the Legionary began to charge forward.

The pike lurched away and Ilaasan almost dropped her rifle as she sped forward, leaving a line of bright fire behind her. A few shots streamed over her head but none of the Cabal appeared to give chase. Her Ghost eventually transmatted the gun away so she could focus on driving. 

When she’d cleared the immediate danger, Ilaasan eased up the throttle and glanced back to where Vince had been fighting. An unfortunately thick cloud of smoke blanketed and obscured the area. She powered down the engine and listened instead—distantly she could make out a shrill whistling followed by a series of explosions and the sound of another Psion screaming.

Through the haze a Sparrow soon burst forth: the Hunter was leaning back confidently on the seat, causing the nose to tip skyward as he took several more shots with his hand cannon. Another Legionary fell as he sped past, the whoop of exhilaration that followed barely heard over the sound of the engines. Pulling up alongside, Vince stowed the gun at his hip then made a gesture with his hand. Hope explained this was a _thumbs up_ and that it was a good thing.

Ilaasan tried to replicate it and Vince laughed heartily over the comms.

“Nice going back there! Now just follow me and we’ll make it to the Farm in no time.”

❖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Lore Referenced**  
> \- The Golden Gun super isn’t always hand cannon shaped… Vince can probably Golden Gun his sniper rifle if needed ([The Pigeon and the Phoenix: 9: Thin)](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/9-thin?highlight=rifle) ▲


	6. The Farm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The travelers reach the Farm and meet Suraya.
> 
> [content warning: she do a swear]

Wooded areas became sparser as they traveled, transitioning to rolling hills covered with crops and tall wind turbines. Roving machines moved through the fields to tend the various plants. Ilaasan was taken aback by the field’s immensity—Vince had said that this area helped feed the people of the Last City—the endless rows of crops implied that the City must be quite large. 

The next valley revealed the settlement—Ilaasan gripped her handles tightly, but Hope gave her a nudge of encouragement.

As they drew near, Vince had them dismount and carefully hide her vehicle beneath some underbrush. The Hunter’s own Sparrow disappeared with a flicker and Ilaasan patted the pike fondly before activating her cloak as they’d discussed.

The road curved around a bend, tracks from wheels embedded in the still-soft mud. Ilaasan carefully avoided the puddles as they made their way towards the brook. A small checkpoint had been set up across the rickety bridge—Vince carried forward confidently and greeted the guards as the Vandal silently slipped into the cold water and crossed underneath to avoid detection.

She shivered and Hope sent her more encouragement. _Almost there, you’re doing great!_ Ilaasan tried to keep her teeth from chattering as she pulled herself out of the water and followed Vince nervously. 

Though she knew she couldn’t easily be seen, the Vandal was still wary of approaching a human settlement—she’d spent most of her newly-Risen life avoiding them. But Vince was adamant that this place was safe and she trusted him.

He knocked at the door of one of the buildings, but opened anyway when no immediate reply came. He took his time closing it, giving the Vandal a chance to slip in behind him. She scurried to a corner of the room and tucked behind a bookshelf noiselessly. Vince seemed to lose track of her, so she quietly tapped against the wood with her claw and he tilted his head in her direction in acknowledgement before calling out.

“Hey Suraya, you in here?”

A moment later a reply came from somewhere above them. “Yeah, come on up.”

The Hunter walked to the stairs and Ilaasan followed silently, careful to mimic his footsteps to hide her own. _You’re doing great, so stealthy!_ Her Ghost said encouragingly, _This is why I think you might be a Hunter._ The Vandal made the slightest of sighs, quiet enough to be muted by her helm, and continued to look around as she crept behind.

This place was worn, but well used and maintained. Though the exterior structure had been recently reconfigured into some sort of communication tower, the interior felt _lived_ in. Ilaasan had the impression that this place was also well loved—shelves and walls were adorned with various trinkets and pictures*, a lifetime of memories contained within.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Vince signaled for her to wait, then strode towards the open door. 

“Well if it isn’t my favorite Titan*.”

A warm chuckle, “You know that was just for the Games, right?”

“Yeah but come on, all the Titans I know wish they could wear a poncho as good as you do.”

Inside, Ilaasan could see a woman sitting behind a large desk—olive skinned with dark hair, she cocked an eyebrow at the Hunter as she leaned back in her chair. A circle of dots graced her forehead.

“You know flattery doesn’t work on me Vince, what do you want?”

“Well, it’s not exactly what you can do _for me_ , but for… a friend of mine.”

“What kind of something?”

Vince motioned to the door, “Mind if I shut this? It’s kinda private.”

Ilaasan took this as her opening—she deftly squeezed past the Hunter as he closed the door, taking a position nearby him but remaining cloaked. Now that she was fully in the room, she noticed more pictures on the wall and several bookcases, though only a few of the shelves contained books. Rolled up maps and parts of a sniper rifle were spread on the desk in front of the woman.

A large hawk sat on a perch near the slightly open window. The bird had been dozing, but the sound of the door closing caused it to perk up and scan the room. Ilaasan felt a single eye focus sharply on her and the hawk began to puff out its feathers intimidatingly. 

“So who’s this—” the woman began to say but was cut off by a loud shriek from the bird. It continued to stare at Ilaasan and started beating its wings in agitation. Suraya stood, looking to where the bird was staring, her hand going for a knife at her hip.

“What,” she said, pointing towards the barely-visible shape behind Vince, “is _that._ ”

The Hunter sighed heavily, shoulders sagging as he looked back at the still-cloaked Vandal. “This is definitely not how I wanted this to go, but nothing gets past Louis, huh? Alright, come on out Ilaasan.”

Not altogether sure if this was the best idea, Ilaasan resisted her instinct to stay hidden and decloaked, pushing the hood of her cloak back. The woman gasped and narrowed her dark eyes, gripping her knife tighter.

“Please. Wanting to been friend,” the Eliksni said as reasuringly as she could, raising both sets of arms and crouching. She hadn’t realized how much taller she was than some of these humans.

“This,” Vince said calmly, taking a step in between them, “is my friend Ilaasan. She needs a place to stay for a couple days.”

The Vandal watched the woman, who slowly removed her hand from the knife’s handle but still watched her with suspicion. Ilaasan carefully lowered her arms but stayed crouched in an effort to look smaller and possibly less intimidating. It didn’t seem to be working.

“You want her to stay here?” Suraya hissed. “What the fuck am I going to tell Marc? Eva?”

“Tell them whatever you like, but just—maybe keep it need to know?”

“How—”

“It’s only going to be for a few days, Suraya. And she’s got the cloaking, so no one will ever see her. We can stay in the basement, like before.”

“Last time I let you use that basement, you neglected to tell me that a CAPTAIN was going to be using it as a hideout.”

“He wasn’t _hiding_ ,” the Hunter replied with a shrug, “He was waiting. And it’s not my fault the Guardian took forever to show up.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Point is, no one noticed the Captain. Right? So Ilaasan will be totally unnoticed.”

“Okay, okay fine. _Fine._ But why should I trust you?”

Suraya was staring past Vince and directly at Ilaasan. She straightened up, meeting the woman’s gaze. It was fierce, with a fire in her eyes that reminded Ilaasan of something Vince said about Titans—this woman would stand against anything that endangered those she protected.

“Want to serve the Light,” she eventually replied. “To serve the Traveler. To make peace.” Ilaasan held out a hand and a moment later Hope flashed into being above it with a chirp.

Suraya swore and Vince pinched the bridge of his nose as he muttered under his breath, “Ila, I thought we discussed that you were going to keep that on the down low.”

“She’s… you’re… a Guardian?” the woman asked tentatively.

“Yes. If I am accept-made by Vanguard.”

The woman looked at her differently then—Ilaasan was unsure how to read the expression upon her face, but sensed a shift in her demeanor. Less hostile, more curious. Suraya sat down heavily in her chair and brought a hand to her forehead.

“This… is going to change things.”

“Which is why we gotta handle this _carefully_ ,” Vince said, giving Ilaasan a look before turning to Suraya. “Like I said, it’s only going to be for a few days. My fireteam is on their way, then we’ll get out of your hair. Ilaasan can make herself scarce.”

She nodded in agreement, noting that the woman still hadn’t taken her eyes off Hope. The Ghost spun around to give her Chosen a nervous look and then turned back to Suraya.

 _“I promise we won’t make any trouble,”_ the little light said brightly. 

“I have a feeling that I’m not the one you should be worrying about,” Suraya said tiredly with a slight smile. She reached out an arm to stroke the bird next to her, which had calmed down some, but still fixed the Vandal with a penetrating stare. “You can stay. This place is practically empty anyways, since most of you Guardians went back to the City.”

Vince gave her a small salute and bowed, “We thank you most graciously milady.”

She cocked her eyebrow at him once more and Ilaasan got the impression that he was making jokes again. “Don’t make me regret this, Hunter. And you… Ilaasan was it?”

The Vandal bowed her head in respect and affirmation.

“Good luck. You’re probably going to need it.”

\---

“Well, that could’ve gone better. But it also didn’t go too bad.”

The pair were sitting in the shade of some trees towards the outskirts of the Farm. The heat of the day was growing, but it was still pleasant. The Hunter lounged, rolling a blade of grass between his fingers while the Vandal sat cloaked beside him. The sound of the nearby brook helped to mask their conversation—Magpie floated nearby to aid with the deception.

“Suraya mother-strong,” Ilaasan said after a while. “Fierce.”

Her legs were pressed close to her chest as she sat, both sets of arms wrapped tight around her. She kept thinking about Suraya’s parting words.

“Yeah, she’s a fighter. Many of the people here are.”

“I must… avoid them?” she asked hesitantly.

“It’s probably best. For now at least. I’d love for you to meet them all properly someday. Especially Devrim—I might be good, he is a whole ‘nother class of sniper. I’ve also heard his cake is pretty good too.”

“Someday.” Ilaasan agreed, watching the people moving about the settlement and silently wondering what cake was. Though Ilaasan had already learned quite a lot about humans from Vince—and from Hope filling in the gaps—she still felt apprehensive.

Remembering the huge croplands they’d passed, she realized that the small number of people here must pale in comparison to the sheer magnitude of people who must live in the City itself. Her mouth suddenly felt dry and her head began to buzz at the thought of being around so many humans.

Her Ghost stayed hidden but quietly tried to comfort her. _The Last City is huge and bustling, and can definitely be overwhelming. But we don’t have to go there yet—I always liked smaller settlements like this place anyways. We can wait until you're more used to them._ Ilaasan breathed out a sigh of gratefulness.

“Hey, Magpie,” the Hunter said, sitting up unexpectedly. “Could you bring the ship around to the landing area?”

_“Considering that I pilot that rustbucket more than you do at this point, yes.”_

“Har har.”

“You been having ship?” Ilaasan blurted out. “Why did we slow-travel before?” 

The Hunter gave her a mischievous smile with a twinkle in his eye.

“Hiking’s so much nicer, isn’t it? Plus we wouldn’t have found that great pike of yours if we’d taken the short way.”

“Perhaps.” she said flatly.

“Oooff, now the kinderguardian is giving me guff. Anyways, I got some stuff I need to get out of the ship before we get settled—it’ll just take me a sec.”

He leapt to his feet and Ilaasan watched him stroll towards the open space she assumed was the airstrip, greeting several people warmly as he passed, his Ghost following along beside him. She took a moment to more closely observe the various buildings clustered around.

Many were old, worn by time and elements. Bits of green moss and red rust clung to the exposed materials, and in some places the buildings had collapsed in on themselves. But there were definite signs of upkeep and restoration.

The nearby brook wound its way behind another structure, one with a large, slowly spinning wheel that dipped into the water. In the front of the building was a porch decorated with various lanterns and a large golden cloth adorned with a symbol like flowing water surrounded by a diamond. A figure in armor stood on one of the steps as if waiting for someone.

Ilaasan eyed their weapons and assumed they must be a Guardian as well. A veteran probably, going by the quality of their gear.

She thought about their skirmish a few days ago with the Cabal. She hadn’t felt much like a warrior of the Light: she’d scrambled for her weapon, missed several shots, and had been distracted by the sounds of combat and smell of her opponent.

_You’ll get the hang of it—you just need practice._

«And if I don’t?»

She felt a pulse of warmth through their connection. Hope pulled her attention back towards the covered porch—Ilaasan could now see a woman stepping out to greet the figure, her blue-colored skin softly reflecting the afternoon light. 

_See that woman over there? That’s Tyra Karn. She’s the one who told me about the Shard originally—I liked to keep her and her Ghost company._

«She is a Guardian? But she doesn’t wear armor.» Ilaasan murmured softly.

_Not all Guardians are fighters. Some, like Tyra, became Cryptarchs or researchers, finding other ways to help._

The Vandal thought on this, watching as the armored figure walked away, now holding a newly decrypted weapon and chatting with their Ghost. Perhaps Hope was right—maybe she wouldn’t have to fight if there were other ways to serve.

* * *

Draping himself across the pilot’s seat, Vince casually placed his feet up on the control panel—his Ghost silently deactivated the switches before he accidentally set something off.

“So how did your chat with the Spider go?”

_“Hard to say—while he didn’t refuse us outright, he also didn’t offer much. I think he tried to scare us by flaunting his huge bodyguard.”_

“Sounds about right. He was probably trying to figure out the best angle for himself and wanted to see how you’d react. You know, we just need to find something he’ll _really_ like.”

There was a sigh over the comms— _“This better not be some ploy to get us to go back into Paris.”_

“He really likes paintings*, Mira. Saw it myself. We find something good and he will eat it up.”

_“Or he’ll just kill us for it.”_

“You know, that’s a good point.”

 _“I think I’m starting to understand why you’re not allowed back there. It was strange now that I think about it. There was something off about that bodyguard… it was almost like…”_ she trailed off and after several moments Vince rolled his eyes.

“Earth to Mira, still there?”

A slight embarrassed cough. _“Right. So how is… our new friend?”_

“She’s really something. We did some Light practice earlier and I tried to teach her the Gun—but she pulled arc instead. Very flashy, but it wasn’t quite the Staff either. I’m kinda curious to see what her Bow would look like.”

_“You seem quite certain she’s a Hunter.”_

“Well she sure doesn’t _sound_ like a Titan. Seriously, she’s gotten the jump on me a few times.”

_“But how is she emotionally?”_

He shrugged, then realized she wouldn’t be able to see it. “I dunno. Still trying to get a read on her. She seemed pretty nervous when we first got here. Maybe a couple days hanging around the Farm will help.”

 _“I wish we could get there quicker. But we’re still stuck rationing fuel.”_ He smiled briefly when she swore under her breath in her native tongue. _“Also he’s been pacing—constantly. But refuses to tell the rest of the crew yet.”_

“Wait, why not?”

There was a pause before she replied. _“I think he wants them to focus on getting through the Reef safely. And to avoid getting their hopes up.”_

“But he practically _runs_ on hope.”

“ _I know, but this is… different. This is a big deal for them, Vince. This could change a lot of things—and not just for us and this House.”_

“I know, Mira.” he said softly. “I know.”

_“In any case, we both need to get back. I’ll ping you again if there’s any changes—hopefully just another day or so.”_

“Right. Stay safe out there.”

 _“You too. Be brave.”_ she said in reply, and the cockpit became quiet once more. Vince swung his feet off the control panel and gestured to his Ghost.

“Let’s not keep them waiting.”

❖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The meeting that Mithrax and Amirrah attended appears briefly in “[Unbroken](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25710283/chapters/62627638)” [😏](https://i.redd.it/foikzlhtxll31.jpg)
> 
>  **Lore Referenced**  
> \- There’s probably several pictures of Devrim, Marc, and Suraya amongst all those photos ([Dawning Delights: Our Choices Define Us](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/our-choices-define-us)) ▲  
> \- Suraya participated in the Guardians Games as a Titan ([Underdog](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/the-underdog); [Team Spirit](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/team-spirit)) ▲  
> \- The Spider actually owns “The Starry Night”, in addition to many other classical pre-Golden Age artworks ([Scatterhorn Cloak](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/scatterhorn-cloak)) ▲


	7. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope has an idea and Ilaasan tries to help around the Farm. Vince takes a call.

“What am I supposed to do with all these at this hour?” the woman asked, sounding exasperated.

“Sorry ma’am. But I have other deliveries to make—the storm really messed with my schedule.” 

“That’s alright dear,” she eventually said with a sigh that turned into a yawn. “I’m sure I can find someone to help me move these to the barn in the morning.”

She waved off the man, who sheepishly tilted the brim of his hat downward and spun on his heels to rush back towards the waiting ship. He splashed through several newly-formed puddles along the way. The older woman glanced at the large crates sitting in the mud and ran a hand through her graying hair. She tutted quietly and with another yawn returned inside.

Ilaasan had watched the exchange from her hiding spot, now curious about the night-time delivery. In the short time they’d been at the Farm most ships arrived during the day: often bringing or taking supplies or ferrying people. She observed them from afar, instinctively trying to recognise their schedules and patterns much as she had with the enemy patrols near and around her cave.

But these weren’t _enemies_ , she reminded herself. Though her initial nervousness about being around humans had slowly begun to fade, it still lurked. They were so different and alien. But another part of her was deeply curious—she wanted to know more about these people who made their lives outside the City.

Ilaasan remembered that Vince had mentioned this woman briefly—she was a talented seamstress who had previously made specialized armor and outfits for the Guardians, but had retired* to live on the Farm after the war.

But judging from the crates she’d just received, Ilaasan was sure the woman was still working just as hard. Carefully she made her way to one of them and lifted the lid noiselessly as she uncloaked. Inside were bolts of fabric of different textures and hues—she lightly ran a hand across them and trilled softly. The quality was very fine, perhaps the best she’d ever felt.

 _Maybe she could make something for you?_ Her Ghost suggested.

Ilaasan retracted her hand, suddenly ashamed. She replaced the lid and recloaked, craning her head from side to side nervously. But it was still the middle of the night and most of the residents were still asleep—so she relaxed briefly.

«I do not deserve something so… nice.»

 _«Why not?»_ Hope questioned, appearing next to her partner.

«Well…» she hesitated, looking at her Ghost. «This woman makes things for _Guardians_.»

_«And? It might not be official, but you’re still a Guardian!»_

The Vandal went to shush the little light, who was becoming increasingly louder. «We must be quiet, little one.»

Hope puffed out her shell in defiance, but she quieted. _«You know, we could probably check if there are others. Other Guardians… like you.»_

The Eliksni’s eyes brightened and she looked eagerly to her Ghost.

 _«I’ve been thinking about it. This place is probably connected to the Tower’s mainframe,»_ the Ghost continued. _«Especially since it was used as a satellite base of operations during the Red War. I’m sure I could find a way to access the Vanguard archives. There are lists there. Lists of new Guardians.»_

«What… would you need to do that?»

_«This main building has some heavy duty communication arrays on the roof. I just need to fly up there and start hacking in.»_

«You go on without me. I… want to move these first.»

She felt a surge of warmth through their bond. _«Okay. Come join me when you’re done.»_

\---

Later the Vandal carefully climbed the protective housing of the fiberwires, her claws quietly scraping against metal and wood running up the side of the building to the roof. Hope almost didn’t notice her partner joining her—between the handshake protocols and encryption firewall she was very engrossed in accessing the mainframe and couldn’t spare much processing for exterior senses. 

The Ghost chirped softly in acknowledgement when Ilaasan reached the top, continuing her hack as her partner curled up against the metal railing nearby and decloaked. She slowly stretched both sets of arms—some of those crates had been fairly heavy.

«Any luck?» she asked, beginning to clean some of the mud off her legs and feet.

 _«Well… yes and no?»_ the Ghost replied, sounding a bit frustrated. _«My authorization codes allow me into some systems, but there’s some resistance when it comes to others. It keeps referencing different permission levels and my current code isn’t properly authenticating.»_

«I understood most of that… are these lists very protected?»

 _«I didn’t think so—»_ a hiss of static _«—but apparently this new system doesn’t like me.»_

The Ghost tried for a few more minutes but eventually threw her metaphorical hands up in defeat. She floated over to her partner, who was dozing.

_«I can’t figure it out.»_

«That’s alright,» Ilaasan said sleepily, brushing a hand across Hope’s shell. «You did what you could. I’m sure someday we will find if there are any others like us.»

_«I just… don’t want you to feel lonely.»_

The Vandal’s eyes brightened and the outer pair squinted slightly. «But I have you, what more do I need?»

Hope chirped softly and snuggled next to her partner. They quietly watched the sun begin to rise, the sky slowly brightening and taking on shades of red and orange. A bird began to make a strange crowing noise—Hope said it was the call of a rooster. Ilaasan didn’t care for it much and decided that she should return to hiding anyway. She activated her cloak once more and made her way down the side of the building, careful not to awaken anyone inside.

\---

Vince found her later in the basement, several arms deep inside the pike. Her face was splattered with some sort of fluid that was also dripping onto the ground. Parts of the vehicle were scattered around in neat piles.

“I thought you said you were going to fix it,” he teased as he sat down on a stack of old boxes.

She growled in response but focused on the task at hand—Ilaasan was attempting to disconnect one of the mounted arc repeaters and the wires were surprisingly delicate. Her Ghost explained.

_“We figured if we removed the weapons, it might be possible to trick the system* into accepting it as a Sparrow. Ilaasan also wants to see if it can be made quieter.”_

“That’s pretty clever—if it works, don’t tell Marcus. He’d have a field day.”

 _“Marcus…”_ the Ghost said pensively. _“Isn’t he one of the big SRL racers?”_

“That’s the one.”

“Racing?” Ilaasan questioned, finally extracting herself with a grunt and heavy clank. She cradled the barrel of the repeater in her lower arms.

“You better believe it—there’s even been talk of setting up another Championship race soon, since last season’s got… interrupted.”*

The Vandal set the weapon down and stretched for a pair of tools to solder the disconnected lines just out of reach. Vince passed them over to her wordlessly. Trilling in appreciation she dipped her head underneath the pike again. Sparks began to dance from where she worked. 

“Who been here before?” she asked, finally remembering a question she’d had earlier.

“Do you mean here like the Farm or here-here?”

She sighed at her friend’s strange way of speaking. “Noticed ether crystals,” she said, extracting herself again and pointing to a blue-white discoloration on the ceiling. “And scratches-deep on wood. Suraya spoke of Captain?”

“Ah, good eye. And memory. Yeah Mithrax used this place briefly a little while back.”

“Why Kell been _here_?” She glanced around the damp basement in surprise.

“Well, you see, we found out about this heist the Devils were planning to get into the old Tower’s vault. They were going to steal a pretty powerful weapon. Mithrax wanted to stop it—so he reached out to a… certain Guardian and they took care of it. They used this place to meet up.”

Ilaasan noted a bit of annoyance in his voice.

“You hold-anger against this Guardian?”

Vince grimaced and squirmed—she was getting better at reading human expressions, this question seemed to catch him off-guard. “Not angry. I guess I’m still annoyed that we couldn’t be a part of what went down. We argued with him constantly about it, but he was adamant…” he trailed off after a moment then said softly, “He’s not exactly death-proof.”*

She considered his response, thinking about the meaning of what wasn’t said. “You respect and honor your Kell. Show devotion. Pledge-love.”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

Her mind went back to the poems. The devotion Mithrax seemed to inspire in Vince—someone she knew to be powerful and capable—was heartening. Ilaasan nodded and returned to patching the wires underneath the pike.

“Close to finish. Then we practice-make with Light?”

“Definitely. I know a place.”

\---

Since the pike was out of commission, the sun had reached quite high in the sky by the time they arrived at the spot Vince had in mind. It was certainly distant from the Farm. Ilaasan panted lightly into her helm—wondering if she should remove it to cool off better—and pushed back the hood of her cloak.

“Alright so last time you pulled arc,” Vince said, pulling off his own helm and holding it up for his Ghost to transmat it away. “Which isn’t a problem, I’m just not really the best one to teach you about that.”

“However,” he walked a few paces away, “We can still practice grenades. And jumps.”

Ilaasan watched as the Hunter took a deep breath and leapt straight into the air, then, while still suspended, jumped _again_. Her eyes were wide as he landed with a neat roll.

“Again please.”

“That’s why we’re here,” he responded with a sly smile. She watched him jump again, this time noticing how the Light briefly coalesced around his form—it must have given him some sort of leverage in order to make the second jump while in the air. It made sense in a strange way.

They practiced for several hours—Vince seemed to favor a style of teaching that relied on diving in headlong, which unfortunately for Ilaasan translated to being pushed out of a lot of trees in the name of “building up instinct.” Despite her annoyance with the Hunter, she found Light-jumping to be strange and unnatural, but also extremely useful. When her legs began to give out though they decided to take a break, resting in the shade. 

“Who teaching-made you?”

“A woman named Anna Law*. We keep in contact a bit—maybe I should tell her that I’m training my own Hunter runt. She’d probably get a kick out of that.”

“Still thinking I been a Hunter?”

“Haven’t given me any reason why you wouldn’t be.”

Ilaasan hummed and stood, now that her legs felt somewhat sturdier. “Now what been grenades?”

Vince jumped to his feet enthusiastically. “I think you’re gonna love this.”

Grenades were tricky and loud—Ilaasan did not like them as much as Vince thought she would. She tried to condense her Light as he demonstrated, but it seemed more ragged and chaotic at the edges than what he held. He also threw them differently—though whether this was because of a physical, anatomical difference or a stylistic preference she couldn't be sure.

“Something wrong-made?” the Vandal asked, noting an uncharacteristic silence after she completely missed the target for the fourth time in a row. Vince was looking back toward the Farm.

“It’s nothing. Well I should say it’s not much. Just got a message—Suraya needs me for something.”

“Needing help?”

“The only thing that needs help is your throwing. Seriously? You have four arms but are still terrible at chucking things. I’ve seen old ladies with better aim.”

She muttered under her breath about technique but didn’t argue. Ilaasan did give him a playful shove for teasing her though and he laughed.

“You just stay here and practice more. I’ll be back in a bit, it should be quick.”

Ilaasan nodded to the Hunter and returned her focus to forming another grenade, unaware of the slight hesitation Vince displayed before turning to leave.

* * *

Vince had received a very short message with a Vanguard signature.

The Hunter knew this was probably going to be a conversation best had while not around Ilaasan, so he asked Magpie to secretly transmat them back to his ship once he was out of sight. Taking a moment to get settled, Vince nodded to his Ghost, who brought up the communications feed.

“Ikora Rey,” he said jovially, leaning back in his chair, “I didn’t realize I was someone even on your radar.”

_“I am always interested to hear about the company my Warlocks keep. Speaking of, how is Amirrah?”_

“She’s a little, indisposed. Can’t come to the phone right now.”

There was a scoff, almost lost in the intermittent static.

_“Let’s not dance around it. I heard that you’ve brought… a unique friend with you to the Farm.”_

“Nothing wrong with having friends around.”

 _“It’s a_ Fallen _, Vince. Not exactly the type that most people go making friends with. But I know that you and Amirrah aren’t most people.”_

He should have known that their associations would be noticed by the Vanguard* at some point. “Look,” he sighed, realizing there probably wasn’t much he should try to hide. “I don’t know what your scouts have seen but… She’s a Guardian.”

A slight pop of static and profound silence followed.

_“Explain what you mean by that.”_

“It’s exactly how it sounds. Ilaasan has a Ghost. The thing rezzed her a little while back and neither of them have a clue of what to do now.”

More silence.

_“I take it she’s the one who attempted to access our records then. The list of newly-registered Guardians.”_

He scratched the back of his neck. “That’s news to me, but I can see why she did it. She was probably just trying to find others like her. Other Eliksni Risen.”

_“She might not ever find them. This is… unprecedented.”_

“Which is why we’re being careful.”

_“Careful is a word for it.”_

“Hey, you gotta admit that there will be chaos when this gets out. I don’t want her to be in the crosshairs of some jumped-up Guardian looking to up their Fallen kill count.”

 _“Then what are you going to do about it?”_ came an unexpected question.

Vince sighed again. “She wants to meet Mithrax. I know you probably can’t officially acknowledge him or his position yet, but I think she needs to find a place with her own people. Everything is still so new to her. Then I thought we could come round the Tower. When you’re ready.”

 _“I find it interesting that you consider it a case of_ our _readiness.”_

“I know there’s a lot on your plate. And I don’t think we have to rush this.”

_“You’re being rather… deliberate about this.”_

“Whether she realizes it or not, Ilaasan is going to change things.”

There was another drawn out pause. Vince started to wonder if the line disconnected, but eventually he heard a quiet murmur.

_“I suppose you are right. And while I don’t necessarily agree with hiding her, I can appreciate the finesse you’ve shown handling something this delicate._

_“If you’re willing, I’d like updates—nothing too detailed. Just enough to stay informed. So that we’re ready for when she chooses to visit the Tower.”_

“I think we can make that work.”

_“Excellent. May the Light guide you, Hunter.”_

❖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- When she’s not at the Tower for special events, Eva is living out her retirement at the Farm ([Eva's Journey: Caretaker](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/caretaker)) ▲  
> \- Sparrows are summoned using a vehicle link—which is why you're unable to summon your Sparrow in certain areas. Ila and Hope are trying to add her pike to the system for future use ([Transcript: Exclusion Zone](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/transcripts/exclusion-zone)) ▲  
> \- Sparrow Racing only exists in D1, though I’m hoping that one day it’ll get added to D2 as part of the new Vault system… a girl can dream 🤞 ([SRL: Sparrow Racing](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/cards/srl-sparrow-racing)) ▲  
> \- Vince wasn’t really comfortable with Mithrax teaming up with The Guardian during Zero Hour—he was just worried for his big bug buddy ([Outbreak Perfected](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/outbreak-perfected)) ▲  
> \- Anna Law was a Hunter who was announced on the Tower P.A. speakers as having gone missing in the Manhattan Nuclear Zone... Vince was rezzed there and was found by Anna, similar to how he found Ilaasan 🥺 ▲  
> \- Ikora's Hidden knows what's up ([Quest Step: Speak to Ikora Rey](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/items/speak-to-ikora-rey); [The Dragon's Shadow](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/the-dragons-shadow)) ▲  
> 


	8. Discovered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While practicing her Light abilities, Ilaasan is found by other Guardians.
> 
> [content warning: temporary character death & swearing]

Back in the forest Ilaasan continued to practice making grenades—she had gotten better at hitting the target, so decided to move onto the next “level” Vince had mentioned.

She focused, trying to form them into the same shape as he’d demonstrated—one that would fly into pieces upon impact and seek out targets—but she couldn’t quite get the timing right. They continued to split apart long before reaching the target.

 _You’ll get the hang of it eventually,_ her Ghost said encouragingly when she stopped to take a break. Ilaasan nodded, panting slightly from the exertion of using her Light constantly. It was beginning to grow dark.

Though she’d learned much in a short amount of time, Ilaasan admitted it would take more time before she could be considered proficient with these new abilities. After a few minutes she began practicing again.

Hope watched her partner from within, quietly wishing there was more she could do to help. Having another Guardian to actually teach them was Travelersent, and again she was glad Vince had found them.

The Ghost began thinking about fate when she almost missed a slight ping on her radar; something distant, deeper in the forest, almost out of range.

She carefully focused on it, not wanting to distract her partner, who seemed to be starting to get the hang of the timing. The ping appeared again, just for a moment. This time the Ghost decided to mention it to Ilaasan when a snap-crack echoed through the air, followed by a high-pitched whistling noise and then suddenly _her Guardian was dead_. 

Released from the Light, Hope floated near the body in a daze. It took her a moment to register what happened before she quickly ducked for cover underneath her Guardian’s cloak, remembering the ping she’d detected. The Ghost scanned around as a figure entered the clearing. A Hunter with a leafy green camouflage cloak stepped from the trees, the evening light obscuring their form.

“Nice shot Byron,” came a staticy voice.

She watched them approach with nervous dread. Hope had only detected one ping on her radar, from a different direction. Where had this Hunter even come from? She remained in her hiding spot, watching as the figure crouched down beside the body. 

“I’m not seeing any weapons,” the Hunter said in confusion. When they started reaching for her cloak Hope quickly flew up and placed herself between them and her Guardian, spinning her shell nervously.

_“What are you doing?”_

“Oh a Ghost! Don’t worry little guy, we got the scary Fallen.”

 _“She’s not scary. And leave her alone.”_ Hope dipped down to the Hunter’s reaching hand and knocked it away. They retracted it, rubbing their hand in surprise.

“What are you talking about?” the figure cocked their head at her. Their own Ghost shimmered into view, blinking between the two.

_“Please leave my Guardian alone. I need a minute to revive her.”_

She couldn’t see the Hunter’s reaction beneath their helmet, but their Ghost simply stared at her in utter shock. Hope ignored them with a sigh and floated back down to the body to begin the process when a rough voice called out.

“What’s going on here?”

Another pair of figures emerged from the treeline—one tall with dark, heavy armor and a shorter one dressed in long, flowing robes. Hope noticed that the Titan had a vicious-looking sniper rifle strapped to their back.

“This Ghost claims that the dead Fallen is her _Guardian_.” The Hunter said in a skeptical voice, tilting their head back toward Hope. She felt the gazes of the other two Guardians settle on her, and she puffed out her shell in defiance.

_“It’s not a claim, it’s true.”_

“Prove it then,” replied the Warlock.

Hope glanced between the Guardians, now unsure. Vince was one of the only ones who knew about Ilaasan—but there was no hiding it now. She steadied herself and expanded outwards, Light radiating in waves towards her Chosen and illuminating the clearing. The gaping head wound began to close and eventually the Eliksni’s eyes started to open—but she was immediately tackled by the Titan.

Ilaasan awoke to the feeling of a heavy weight on her chest, making it hard to breathe—she tried to push against the weight. Something unexpectedly struck the side of her head and she was dazed as a rough voice growled at her.

“Stay down, _bug_.”

The Vandal closed her eyes and took a breath before looking up at the figure on top of her. A hulking figure with dark armor—one hand balled tightly into a fist and held in the air, ready to strike again. The other hand soon clamped around her throat. She couldn’t see her Ghost.

«Hope?» she called out hoarsely, and the figure pressed more of their weight onto her.

“Quiet.”

Ilaasan began to tremble and her breath became short. Something about this recalled flashes of another encounter—she felt the searing gaze of three murderous, hateful eyes. Part of her screamed for her to escape, but her body felt disjointed and unresponsive. Where was her Ghost?

 _I’m here,_ Hope said softly through the murk. _Please stay calm._

Eventually the huge figure turned away, their helm facing a figure she hadn’t noticed, “What. The actual. Fuck. How is this possible?”

“This is quite curious,” the other replied, leaning over her briefly. “A Fallen with a Ghost. How interesting.”

Ilaasan started to squirm, causing the Titan to press down further.

_“I told you, she’s my Guardian. Now will you please get off of her!”_

Ilaasan stilled, caught off-guard by the anger _seething_ through their connection. It was not an emotion she’d ever felt from Hope. But the panic soon returned as the Risen started to speak amongst themselves.

“We should take this to the Vanguard,” came a third voice that Ilaasan couldn’t see.

“Maybe. I think we should just get rid of this… _abomination_.” The Titan shifted their weight heavily and the Vandal couldn’t help but gasp in pain. Breathing was becoming a struggle.

“Now, now, let’s not be too hasty. But if we _are_ going to get rid of it, I’d like to… study it a bit first.”

“I don’t like the sound of that Trase.”

“Relax Simran, we’ve dealt with plenty of Fallen. What’s one more?”

Ilaasan felt her blood thunder through her veins, her head ringing with alarm. They were going to kill her if she didn’t do something.

She tried to picture a weapon she could use to escape—but had trouble thinking clearly. Was a grenade too dangerous? _I don’t know if that’s a good idea,_ her Ghost fretted. _I have to do something,_ Ilaasan replied, taking several shallow, ragged breaths.

Arc energy began to crackle around her lower hand, forming into a jagged edge. Ilaasan quickly drove it into a gap between the Titan’s armor before they could react—causing them to roar with pain briefly before it was suddenly cut short.

Ilaasan realized that they were temporarily stunned, arc rippling through their paralyzed body. She heaved them off her, pulling herself free and activating her cloak in the space of only a moment.

The other two figures drew their weapons in surprise—but seemed unable to immediately determine where she’d disappeared to in the growing twilight. Carefully and quietly Ilaasan moved away from the small group, hidden by the cloaking tech, trying to figure out her next move. Her Ghost cautiously began to drift away from them as well, but the robed figure grabbed her roughly.

“We have your Ghost,” the Warlock called out, giving Hope a violent shake as she tried to escape. Ilaasan wanted to scream at them but thought better of it, quietly hissing in frustration. Her Ghost was nervous and scared and she needed to think clearly.

The hulking figure finally stood, shaking off the paralysis. Bright flames erupted from the Titan’s hands and they turned about menacingly, trying to find her while the third figure crouched low, knife in hand. Ilaasan watched the robed figure as the weapon they held was transmatted away in a flash of light and replaced with a strange metallic band.

“I don’t suppose you know what this is,” they called out again. “But you’re about to find out.”

A strange snapping noise filled the clearing and Ilaasan suddenly felt extremely _alone._ She stared at her Ghost—Hope’s iris was dim, but the little light still struggled weakly against her captor. Arc pulses flowed from the restraint and Ilaasan realized that even though she could see Hope, she couldn’t feel her Ghost’s presence anymore.

“This is a Praxic restraint*. It will keep you disconnected from your Ghost. And this,” the Warlock said, holding out a hand as a new weapon appeared in it, “Is for killing Guardians… and Ghosts. Now if you don’t come out from hiding, I’ll be forced to use it.”

The weapon they held was dark and twisted, with a sickly green glow emanating from it. Ilaasan began to silently panic—she couldn’t know if the figure was speaking truthfully, but there was no way she would chance her friend’s life.

“Please,” she called out in a strained voice. The Vandal decloaked, revealing herself to the figures, arms raised in surrender. “Please hurt-not Ghost.”

They both faced her—the one holding her Ghost moved the barrel of the hateful weapon* away from Hope, while the heavily armored one tensed and appeared ready to attack. But where was the third? Ilaasan tried to look around but was struck unexpectedly from behind—stars flashed before her eyes before the world went suddenly dark.

* * *

Vince returned to where they’d been practicing, not realizing how quickly it had become dark in his absence. He listened, hoping to possibly hear the small explosive bang and whirl of a successfully created skip grenade. But instead only the soft natural sounds of the forest permeated the twilight. 

He entered the clearing—but there was no sign of the Vandal. Vince shrugged and whistled casually while strolling over to their makeshift target, assuming that she was probably just relaxing nearby. More uneasy than his Guardian, Magpie silently attempted to ping her several times. That was when Vince noticed the blood.

The Hunter dropped down to inspect the dirt and motioned for his Ghost to illuminate the scene. A dark stain where blood had pooled from a severe wound. _Eliksni blood,_ he tensed with realization. Several footprints and a patch where something heavy had pressed into the ground. Then he spotted it—a folded piece of paper placed neatly underneath a nearby rock.

He grabbed the note and opened it, revealing a symbol* and a short series of numbers. This was left for him to find by another Hunter. Before he could even ask, Magpie was already accessing the semi-private VanNet board and found the post almost immediately.

>> The Ghost said you’d come looking.

>> My fireteam is taking them both to the Vanguard.

>> Out of my hands. Sorry.

>> Simran-7

He read the post a few times over to be sure, then swore loudly.

❖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Lore Referenced**  
> \- Ghost restraints are used by the Praxic Order when making arrests—they can neutralize/disable a Ghost without killing it (The Warlock Aunor: [The Salt Mines](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/the-salt-mines) & [District 125](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/district-125)) ▲  
> \- The spooky gun in question is a replica Thorn… is Trase a Dredgen or a Praxic? 🤫 ([Ghost Fragment: Cathedral of Dusk](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/cards/ghost-fragment-cathedral-of-dusk)) ▲  
> \- Hunters have symbols for Lost Sectors and Region Chests, so I don’t see why they wouldn’t have other symbols that might only make sense to other Hunters ([Transcript: A New Frontier](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/transcripts/a-new-frontier)) ▲  
> \- The VanNet comes up in several lore pieces—where else are Guardians going to gossip and post anonymous messages for each other? ([Ghost Stories: Pulled Pork](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/pulled-pork))


	9. Lockdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> laasan finds herself somewhere different—and meets someone strange.

Ilaasan slowly awoke, struggling through a fog of soreness and confusion. The surface beneath her was cold and unyielding. Each of her limbs felt heavy—her thoughts clouded.

 _«Are you awake?»_ a trembling but distant voice questioned. Was she awake? Ilaasan vaguely recalled that she had met other Guardians. They had been aggressive. Had they killed her?

She groggily turned her head towards her Ghost, who made a sound of relief. Ilaasan blinked hard and rubbed at her eyes but groaned in frustration when her eyesight refused to clear. She rolled onto her side to face the nervous Ghost, now reduced to a blurry and softly glowing sphere.

_«Thank the Light—I was so worried.»_

Ilaasan was about to reply when her body was wracked by a series of spasms. The response was strangled in her throat and her breathing shallowed as she drew into herself.

_«Oh dear! Are you in pain? Let me try something.»_

She began to feel the soft caress of Light flowing through her, easing her constricting muscles. Her breathing returned to normal as the pain eventually passed. Her eyesight finally sharpened as well: she found she was lying on the floor of a small, bare room with a set of heavy bars across one side. Her Ghost floated nearby, that strange band still wrapped around her form.

_«I’m sorry there isn’t much more I can do—this restraint really limits me. I can’t even read your vitals properly.»_

Ilaasan realized it was why her Ghost’s voice sounded so strange—they were still disconnected from each other because of that restraint.

«It is alright,» she finally said with a cough. «It’s not your fault.»

_«I believe you’re experiencing some side-effects from being exposed to constant, untempered arc energy. They… used it to keep you unconscious. You might want to take things slow.»_

Ilaasan felt something heavy and cold on her arms and wrists—restraints. Did they also limit her abilities? Closing her eyes and focusing, Ilaasan tried to reach out to the Light. But there wasn’t enough for her to grasp—she sensed that the metal bands were somehow either absorbing or blocking her Light. 

She sighed and slowly raised herself upright, muscles still feeling sore but less so now. She took in more details of the room and noticed a tiny window set high into the wall across from the barred wall. A small patch of sky.

«How long have we been here?» Ilaasan asked her Ghost, noting the color.

_«Almost two dozen and a half hours. Those Guardians brought us here then left—no one else has come by. I’m pretty sure we’re in the Tower though.»_

«You have mentioned this Tower before… We are in the City then?»

_«Yes.»_

The Vandal blinked both sets of eyes then began to trill wearily.

«We did it—we have arrived.»

Her Ghost looked at her quizzically before chirping softly. _«I suppose we have.»_

«Vince… he probably doesn’t know where we are?»

 _«I can’t get any messages out—but I did tell those Guardians to talk to Vince. Pleaded really. I told them that he could explain everything. But I don’t think any of them really listened to me.»_ Her shell drooped and she blinked slowly. Ilaasan motioned for her to come close and leaned back against the wall, bracing her primary arms on her knees while the lower rested in her lap. Hope snuggled up into her cloak and the Vandal closed her eyes.

«I don’t like not being able to feel you.»

_«Me too.»_

_What are we going to do?_ Ilaasan wanted to ask her Ghost, but sighed deeply instead. Their situation was frustrating—they were completely at the mercy of their captors and she hated feeling so powerless. Ilaasan clenched her hands and growled lowly before becoming quiet again. Despite their disconnection, Hope recognized the worry starting to creep into her Guardian’s face.

_«We just have to trust that it will all work out. We’re here for a reason.»_

«You are right… I just wish…» she trailed off with another sigh.

They rested there for awhile—Hope was fairly certain her partner fell asleep at some point, body still tired but slowly healing from what little Light she was able to send. An hour or so later the sound of footsteps broke the silence. They echoed down the hallway and roused the lightly-sleeping Vandal. 

_«Someone is coming.»_ her Ghost whispered softly. Ilaasan shifted position to get a better look, but her limbs were still sore and she regretted the movement. She peered over to see a figure in a black duster standing in front of the bars.

“Ghost, I need you to come with me,” the woman said sternly.

_“But what about my Guardian?”_

“You’ll be returned here when we’re done. We need to run some tests.”

Hope blinked a few times, looking to Ilaasan. The tired Vandal simply nodded her head.

“We must cooperate. Nothing-hidden.”

The woman stared silently—she was unreadable beneath her polished black helmet. Hope floated towards the bars and the Warlock keyed a code at a nearby panel, causing a gap to open for her to pass. The Ghost gave her partner a final parting glance and followed the woman down the hall.

\---

It was difficult to tell how much time had passed—the small patch of sky afforded by the tiny window wasn’t much to go off of. But Ilaasan felt better. Her muscles were less sore and her head was clearer, though she continued to feel anxious without her Ghost. Hopefully they’d return soon.

A soft scraping sound eventually interrupted the quiet. Ilaasan tilted her head to listen: the scraping was rhythmic and persistent, but eventually ceased and was followed by a set of footfalls. Then the scraping resumed. Ilaasan rose and walked over to the bars. They hummed with energy, so the Vandal was careful not to touch them as she tried to make sense of the noise.

Beyond the bars was a long hallway, at the end of which was a figure sweeping the floor. Ilaasan recognised this to be a Frame—there had been several on the Farm, going about their programmed business with efficiency and a rather cheerful optimism. She’d liked watching them. This one seemed directed to sweep the floors, a well-worn broom held in its hands. But as it worked she noticed that periodically it would jerk and move erratically, the face-light flashing from white to red as it shuffled about.

It continued to move down the hallway, following some programmed schedule. As it got closer she noticed the intermittent sparks and wisp of smoke trailing from its head. 

«Is it broken?» she wondered aloud before remembering she was without her Ghost.

The Frame swept a patch in front of the cell for a suspiciously long while. When it finally stopped, the Frame slowly turned around to look directly at Ilaasan, the face-light glowing an almost menacing red. Still holding the broom, it stepped up to the bars and she felt strangely uneasy.

“You are unwell? Need repair?” she asked the Frame, pointing to the sparks and smoke.

“Greetings,” it replied haltingly, the artificial voice modulating strangely. “Greetings from the Emperor.”

“Emperor?”

 _“Yeeesssss,”_ came another, deeper voice. Ilaasan glanced around, almost expecting another figure but confirmed they were alone. She returned to staring at the strange Frame; she noticed that it stood more erect and its face-light now glowed purple.

 _“Do not be confused, this vessel is only a conduit.”_ The voice paused to laugh deeply before continuing. _“I had heard rumors that the Light found a champion in the Eliksni, but I had to see it for myself.”_

“Rumors?” she said flatly, trying not to sound apprehensive.

_“Yes. Rumors of a Light-bearer hiding in plain sight. Tell me, does the Spider pay well?”_

“I am knowing-not a spider.”

There was a pause. _“Interesting.”_

“You are wanting what?” she asked. 

_“I would have you as my Shadow, little Lightbearer. I have been without one of your kind for awhile—tell me, are you skilled with mechanics and cybernetics as Sekris* was?”_

Ilaasan cocked her head, growing annoyed at this strange voice. “Perhaps. I am very skilled. But also knowing-not this Sekris.”

 _“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. But you are touched by the Light, which would make you a powerful Shadow indeed. Should your performance prove… worthy.”_ At this last statement Ilaasan began to tremble slightly, an echo of her past reverberating in the back of her mind. She hissed and the Frame paused again before it continued.

_“My Shadows are chosen people. You should consider it an honor to even be considered my dear. I treat my champions very, very well—you would be showered with all the gifts and riches you deserve. My challenges would help you grow fat from strength.”_

“I am not needing gifts… or fatness.”

The Frame began to laugh again.

_“Think on my offer. I will visit you again, Shadow-to-be.”_

Ilaasan didn’t respond. The Frame’s face-light shifted from purple back to white and it blandly resumed sweeping the floor, wisps of smoke still trailing from its head as it slowly made its way down the hallway. Stepping away from the bars, the Vandal settled back down and made a mental note to ask her Ghost about this so-called Emperor.

* * *

“I thought we had an agreement.” Vince snarled, glaring at the Warlock Vanguard as she casually turned towards him, setting aside her book.

“I understand your frustration, but this is not my doing.”

“Traveler’s crack it’s not.”

His voice carried across the bazaar, rising above the usual morning din and caused a few people nearby to look at them with concern. Ikora fixed him with a level gaze and replied calmly.

“The fireteam who brought her in were not directed by my hand. It was purely coincidence.”

“Where is she now?” He stepped up closer to her, dropping his voice but not his temper.

“She and her Ghost are safe in a secure part of the Tower. Zavala is organizing an emergency Consensus meeting to… discuss the situation.”

“What is there to discuss? She has a Ghost—she’s a Guardian.”

“You know it’s not that simple, Vince. There are ramifications.”

“You locked her up!”

The Warlock gave him a harsh look that reminded Vince that this woman used to rule the Crucible. But he didn’t back down and eventually her glare softened.

“I know she’s important to you. Even if you can’t control that temper,” She held up a hand before he could interrupt, “I believe you should come with me to that meeting. You know her best, it seems.”

Vince nodded firmly and slowly stopped clenching his fists, which had started radiating solar energy. His Ghost floating nearby also relaxed.

 _“When is the meeting?”_ Magpie asked.

“Later this afternoon. Before then, I would suggest,” She returned to her books with a slight tilt to her head, “That you invite the rest of your fireteam as well.” 

Vince raised his eyebrows and she nodded with a smile.

“Meet me back here in a few hours Hunter, and we’ll see what can be done for your friend.”

❖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Traveler’s crack' the best curse I’ve ever heard and I stole it from DistantStorm's fic "[Keep On Rising (Until The Sky Knows Your Name)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20476427)"
> 
>  **Lore Referenced**  
> \- Sekris, Baron of Shanks, was the Emperor’s Shadow of the Eliksni before he was killed by Gaul ([Boots of Sekris](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/boots-of-sekris); [Robes of Sekris](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/robes-of-sekris)) ▲


	10. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Consensus debates the ramifications of an Eliksni Guardian.

|| I wish for my children to be united ||

❖

Vince felt like he was beginning to lose his mind—they had been at this for what seemed like _days_ , even though his Ghost helpfully informed him it had only been a few hours. The sun hadn’t even set.

“Not helping,” he muttered to Magpie, who chirped in response.

_Just trying to keep things in perspective._

The Hunter was seated at an unfamiliar table with many people he’d known of generally but had never actually spoken with: Executor Hideo sat across from him, flanked by Arach Jalaal and Lakshimi-2, each representing the largest factions of the City. Commander Zavala sat at another end, with Ikora nearby. There were two chairs left conspicuously empty.

After the initial surprise and outrage from the Consensus members learning of Ilaasan’s existence, the discussion turned to what to do about it.

“Commander, didn’t you once say that the City welcomes _all_ Guardians? That’s what she wants to be—a Guardian.” Vince argued.

“But have you even considered how the citizens of the City are going to react to this?” Executor Hideo interjected with a sneer, steepling his fingers. “News of a Risen Fallen will undoubtedly cause outcry, but to call it a Guardian? There will be riots.”

“Not to mention how the Guardians themselves are going to react,” Zavala frowned and rubbed his forehead. “While I am open to the possibility of this… _unusual_ Guardian, there are many here who will not be so accepting.”

“Look, I get that there’s bad blood—we’ve all lost someone to the Fallen. But Ilaasan was chosen by a Ghost all the same, whether anyone else likes it or not.”

“Have we actually confirmed that?” Jalaal countered. “For all we know this Fallen could have just figured out a way to steal another Guardian’s Light. The Hive can do strange things, maybe the Fallen are taking notes.”

“I can promise you, the Light she has is her own.”

“Hunter, I didn’t want to have to say this outright, but can we trust you either?”

Vince gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes at the Executor across the table, “Have I given you a reason not to?”

“I’ve read some interesting reports—it seems you’ve been spending quite a lot of time with the Fallen lately.”

“You accusing me of something?”

“But what of this Ghost? Do we know _why_ she chose a Fallen?” Lakshmi-2 interrupted before Hideo could respond.

“We cross-checked her access codes and ran several tests,” Ikora replied, pulling up the reports on the main screen. A holoimage of the Ghost appeared along with other details. “She was a member of the Spectral Network but reported M.I.A. Initial analysis indicates that she remains untampered, although she’s going by a different name.”

“An ironic one,” said Jalaal under his breath.

“However,” the Warlock paused, watching her own Ghost hover beside her. “It’s true that we still don’t know why or how this happened. We have spent lifetimes with our Ghosts, but we still don’t wholly understand the process of how they choose certain… partners. This may be the first Fallen Risen, but perhaps she won’t be the only one.”

“Where are they now?”

“We have them both… contained.” Zavala answered, looking somewhat regretful. “I believe it should be noted that neither has attempted to escape.”

“Maybe the Fallen is just biding its time, waiting for the right opportunity to strike. This could all be a ruse to get closer to any of us—especially now that we’re dealing with this _impending_ threat.”

“You expect an assasination attempt, Hideo?”

“They’ve infiltrated our walls before.”

“And we will defeat them in glorious battle once again.” Lakshmi-2 countered raspingly. Vince realized that this back and forth amongst the Consensus could continue indefinitely.

“ _She_ just wants to help,” he finally cried out in exasperation, smashing a fist on the table. “This isn’t some plot to attack the City or assassinate one of you. _Please_ , just bring Ilaasan here and let her explain.”

“Perhaps if you weren’t—”

A heavy knock sounded from the door. Several eyes were drawn towards it.

“Are we expecting someone else?” Lakshimi-2 asked with a nod in that direction after a moment.

Ikora smiled slyly, “We are. Come in Saint.”

Moments later a tall Titan in armor strode into the room, pausing to hold the door open for a shorter Awoken woman with sweeping robes and long silvery hair. A pair of swords were sheathed on his back—Vince tensed when he recognized them and gave the woman a knowing look. She returned a nervous smile and shrugged.

Saint-14 stepped up to the table and nodded to the various Consensus members in greeting, his gaze lingering on one of the empty chairs. 

“It has been quite awhile since I’ve been to one of these,” Saint chuckled. “As some of you may know, I am Saint-14. This is Amirrah Taleb and we… did not come alone. I would appreciate it if you all remained calm when our guest enters.”

Some eyebrows raised at this, followed by surprised exclamations and a few curses when another tall figure stepped through the doorway behind the Titan and Warlock—a figure with a heavy furred mantle and two sets of glowing eyes. The Eliksni bowed deeply as he drew near, lower arms clasped in front of him while the primary arms remained outstretched in a peace gesture. 

“Greetings Vanguardkel,” he rumbled.

Vince quickly scanned the room—Zavala had risen from his chair, but Ikora remained seated and tilted her head towards the other Warlock. He noticed that although several hands had gone for weapons, none of the members had actually drawn on the Kell... Yet. He breathed a small sigh of relief; having Saint staring them down probably helped.

“Kell Mithrax of House Light has asked me to be his sword-bearer,” Saint-14 said calmly, as if this was a common occurrence, turning his helm towards the Eliksni. A slight shimmer of void radiated from his hands. “He is here as our guest.”

Mithrax’s eyes grew bright as he slowly clasped his primary arms behind his back before he spoke.

“I understand there has been discussion-strong concerning the Light-bearer chosen of my people. Perhaps we can discuss together and agreement-make.”

The Vanguard Commander gave Saint a brief glance the slowly sat back down.

“Indeed. We have much to discuss, it seems.”

❖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Lore Referenced**  
>  \- Osiris asked Saint-14 to meet with the House of Light… given how things have changed, I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to assume that the old Titan *eventually* got over his doubts about the Fallen ([Maintenance Operations Log 30037](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/records/maintenance-operations-log-30037))  
> \- Saint-14 was the Vanguard Commander… for about one day 😆 ([Vanguard Commander](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/records/vanguard-commander))  
> \- Kell is both a rank and a title—Mithrax refers to the Awoken Queen as Marakel ([The Queenbreaker](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/the-queenbreaker))


	11. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ilaasan meets the Vanguard and the rest of Fireteam Brave.

Ilaasan had fallen asleep again by the time the woman returned with Hope. As they neared the cell the Ghost asked again if the restraint could be fully removed, but the Warlock shook her head sternly. The Ghost’s shell drooped but she didn’t argue—her Guardian had told her to cooperate.

The bars were retracted once more and the Ghost floated over to her partner as the woman silently turned to leave. Hope quickly scanned the sleeping Vandal—although the woman had agreed to adjust some settings of the band, they were still disconnected and she fretted being away for so long. But a moment later the Ghost chuckled softly, realizing she had experienced this once before—back before her and Ilaasan had become partnered.

The Vandal stirred, slightly opening one of her eyes.

«Hope?»

_ «I’m back,»  _ she answered warmly.  _ «They just wanted to run a few tests. Are you feeling better?» _

«Mostly. Better now that you’re back.»

_ «Did anything happen while I was gone?» _

The Ghost watched her partner start to fidget with the hem of her cloak before she continued.

«A Frame spoke to me. It claimed to speak for someone called the Emperor.»

_ «But the City doesn’t have an Emperor.» _

«That was what I thought… he was very strange.»

_ «Well, when this band finally gets removed I can look into it… maybe one of my old buddies in the Spectral Network might know.» _

«Do you think we will be here longer?»

_ «I don’t know—but I hope not.» _

«But you  _ are _ Hope,» came an almost snickering reply after a beat.

The Ghost turned to face the Vandal, iris contracting into a squint. Ilaasan was attempting to keep a straight face. _ «You know, if you’re gonna make jokes like that I  _ will _ change my name.» _

Ilaasan shrugged—a gesture she’d learned from Vince—and Hope began to laugh.

\---

More time passed. Hope recited some of Ilaasan’s favorite passages from the poems to pass the time, but it did little to lighten the nervous air that had returned while they waited. 

Hurried footsteps barreled down the hallway, shattering the stillness. Ilaasan peered from where she was curled up to see Vince rushing towards the cell—Hope chirped excitedly as he slid in front of the bars.

“Come on, come on, come on!” he called back down the passage, where Ilaasan could see other figures approaching, albeit less hastily. Vince turned back to her as she stepped up to the bars in a confused daze.

“You should know that as soon as these bars go down I’m gonna hug you.”

_ “Vince…”  _ his Ghost said condescendingly, shimmering into view beside him.

“Fine!” He rolled his eyes and gave Ilaasan a wide smile. “If it’s okay with you.”

“What been a hug?”

“It’s an embrace, between friends.”

She considered it for a moment. “That is… agreeable.”

He beamed at her and shifted excitedly in place, dancing on the balls of his feet as the others approached. A woman with dark skin and high-collared robes walked beside a heavily armored man wearing a stern demeanor. Both radiated an air of authority and each was accompanied by a Ghost—Ilaasan didn’t have to focus very hard to sense the strength of their Light.

The Titan silently made his way to the control panel. Seconds later the bars disappeared and Ilaasan was swept up into an embrace by the shorter Hunter. She trilled happily and reached her own arms around him.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly into her cloak. She simply rumbled in her chest, which vibrated through both of them.

A soft cough from behind eventually broke the embrace. Vince pulled away and patted her on the shoulder before turning towards the others, swinging out an arm.

“Ilaasan, let me introduce you to the Vanguard.”

“Thank you Vince, but we can take it from here,” the woman gave him a look and Ilaasan was briefly reminded of Suraya. A Ghost with a dark, angular shell floated next to her.

“But before we continue—Ophiuchus, if you’d be so kind.”

The Ghost blinked once and the bands around Ilaasan’s arms loosened, dropping to the floor with a clatter. The band around Hope was removed as well—Ilaasan was almost overwhelmed with the mixture of emotions that suddenly coursed through their bond. She sighed deeply.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, voice wavering.

\---

Zavala led them down several side corridors—Vince remarked that he’d never even known that some of these areas existed. He stayed protectively near Ilaasan the entire time, but she didn’t mind the closeness. She noticed that the areas they passed through seemed less trafficked; they hadn’t seen anyone else the entire time. Eventually she timidly asked where they were heading.

“We are… escorting you to the hangar.” The Titan replied, giving a curt nod.

Ilaasan glanced between the two Vanguard leaders questioningly. “I must leave?”

“For now, yes. Due in part to the current, imminent threat to the City, the Consensus has decided that now is not the right time to make your status more… public.”

Ikora scoffed and he sighed. “I do not entirely agree with it either, but right now we cannot handle an internal threat while also dealing with what’s coming straight for us.”

“… I am being a threat?”

“Maybe not you, specifically,” Ikora explained. “But to some, the idea that you’ve been blessed with the Light will cause discontent. Uproar.” 

She gazed out the large window they passed, “Perhaps even a crisis of faith.”

Beyond the glass the City spread outwards, surrounded by a gargantuan wall. Night had fallen—the twinkling metropolis lights seemed to stretch on forever. Buildings of all shapes and sizes rose upwards, with roads and walkways winding between them as ships and transports weaved above. The last and greatest bastion of humanity.

But Ilaasan focused only on the sphere hanging in the sky above it all—slowly spinning and casting a soft light over the City was the Traveler. It was different from her dreams, its presence somehow more surreal due to the broken fragments that slowly orbited the silent entity. 

She stopped, held in place by the recollection of the soft voice from her dream.

_ Weaver. _

Her eyes dimmed and a wisp of ether rose from them—Ilaasan blinked hard a few times—crying was not something that should be done in front of these powerful leaders. Hope floated closer, radiating comfort through their bond. She felt Vince at her side and he gently took her lower hand.

“You haven’t seen It properly yet, huh?”

She shook her head and looked up at the Traveler, still trying unsuccessfully to keep the ether from her eyes. The others had stopped as well—Ilaasan tried to calm the small, fretting part of her mind that became anxious at their focused attention.

“I wanted to come to this City.” she started hesitantly, turning towards the Vanguard. “Not to attack or steal—but to peace-make. My people are scattered. Broken. Fallen.

“I do not speak for all. But I want to try. To bring all-together… please.”

Zavala’s eyes softened with an emotion she hadn’t seen from him yet—something like hope.

“You are the second… Eliksni I’ve heard today speak of such a possibility. The City needs more allies, but it must be protected first and foremost.” He also gazed out toward the Traveler.

“I can do that.”

The Titan smiled briefly, “Indeed. We will discuss this again. For now you will be… assigned to join Fireteam Brave—” Vince whispered an enthusiastic ‘yes’ under his breath next to her “—in their support of this House of Light. Though we cannot officially announce your presence, as Guardians we know that fireteams are better when they are… complete.”

Ilaasan wasn’t sure of the exact meaning of this proclamation, but Vince was enthusiastic enough for both of them. Her eyes brightened and she bowed slightly to the Vanguard.

_ “Thank you, Commander.” _ Hope chirped.

“Speaking of which—we’re almost to the hangar.” Ikora said warmly. “The rest of your fireteam is there waiting for you both.”

\---

_ “Oh dear. Guardian, please hold!” _

As they entered the almost-deserted hangar, a Frame with a flat, blue-colored head and green face-light noticed them and rushed over quickly. It held a datapad and seemed to have been supervising the automated unloading of several large crates from a cargo carrier. Zavala dragged a hand over his face and sighed.

“Kadi, I told you I would return later.”

_ “Apologies Commander. But packages for this Guardian must be collected. New Guardians often forget.” _

The Frame was pointing directly at Ilaasan. She looked to her Ghost quizzically, “Packages?”

_ “Yes Yes. Please Guardian. Please collect.” _

_ “Sure, we’ll take them, _ ” Hope answered the persistent Frame, who then nodded enthusiastically several times and tapped something on the datapad. Suddenly a small pile of weapons, engrams, and other materials appeared in front of Ilaasan, who tried to catch some of them before they clattered to the floor.

_ “Sorry!” _ Hope apologized, starting to transmat the pile to her storage banks.  _ “I’ve never gotten a package before—next time I’ll grab them better.” _

“What is being all this?”

“This,” Vince said, picking up a stray engram with a laugh. “Could be considered proof that you’re an official Guardian.” He tossed it over to the embarrassed Ghost, who transmatted it away in a flash. “I’ll explain later.”

Ikora cracked a smile. “It seems that you are already registered in our system. I wonder if this is Aunor’s doing...”

She shared a look with Zavala, who turned on his heel with another sigh and continued forward.

The hangar was huge, with open bays for docking and making repairs to various models of jumpships and transports. Ilaasan lingered briefly near a station where a Sparrow was being worked on, eyeing the various tools. She recalled her pike back at the Farm and hoped they would be able to recover it.

“You know, I’ve never seen the hangar so empty,” Vince remarked to Ilaasan, louder than usual. Zavala turned back toward him and cocked an eyebrow. 

“What?,” the Hunter shrugged. “I’m just pointing it out to the kinderguardian.”

“The staff and personnel in this part of the Tower have been… temporarily assigned to a mandatory safety drill for the evening.”

“Right.” Vince winked at Ilaasan, who had learned by now that it was meant as a playful gesture and not that something was stuck in his eye.

The group continued toward a silver-colored ship docked in one of the bays. Long tassels, ribbons, and bits of cloth trailed from the ship, caught by a soft breeze, reminding Ilaasan of a rolling field. A set of stairs led down from its hatch and two people sat on the steps. One of them waved—a woman with long white hair and dark indigo skin—while the other looked up from the flock of birds they were feeding and began dusting off their hands.

Zavala faced Ilaasan and Vince, clasping his hands behind his back and adopting a rigid pose.

“This is where we take our leave… Guardians.” Ilaasan’s heart flooded with relief at the word. “When this threat has passed, we expect a report from you. In person.”

He nodded towards Ilaasan, who bowed low in respect. Ikora tilted her head to them as well, giving a warm smile.

“Be brave.”

As the Vanguard walked away Ilaasan let out a deep breath she didn’t realize she'd been holding. Her Ghost brushed against her and chirped softly, focusing her attention on the figures approaching from the ship. The one who had been feeding the birds wore armor shining silver and covered with ribbons similar to those adorning the ship.

“So this is the one causing such a fuss,” came a voice as bold as their armament.

They clapped a heavy gauntleted hand on Ilaasan’s shoulder and she was almost knocked off-balance by the weight of it. She was also struck by the brightness of their Light, radiating just as strongly as the Vanguard’s had.

“Ila, this is Saint-14.” Vince explained. “He’s a… well he’s one of the greatest Titans who ever lived.”

“Must everyone say that about me? I do not like such attention.”

Ilaasan couldn’t read his face, hidden behind his helm, but there was a warmth in his voice that put her at ease.

“Greetings Saint-14. I am Ilaasan.”

“Your Light seems strong—I would like to see it in action someday.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think you’ll be seeing us in Trials, Saint,” the woman behind him interjected. Her dark skin rippled with an otherworldly sheen and her eyes glowed a vibrant magenta hue. She gave Ilaasan a smile and sidestepped the Titan to extend her hand.

«Greetings Ilaasan, Machine’s blessings to you. I am Amirrah Taleb.»

She spoke eloquently—Ilaasan took her hand and subconsciously purred in acknowledgement.

“Wait, you’ve never done that for me.” Vince realized, almost affronted.

“Your Eliksni terrible. She is being a master.”

Amirrah gave him a smirk and he muttered to himself, crossing his arms. Hope laughed as Ilaasan chittered softly and observed the Warlock closer—Vince had mentioned her many times before and always praised this woman. Her Light shone close to the surface, a shimmer of swirling void.

“Now,” interrupted Saint, gripping the Vandal by the shoulder and leaning in. “There is someone on my ship you also need to meet. But it is a small ship, so we will wait out here.”

He directed her towards the stairs and gave her a nod. She looked back to Amirrah and Vince, who were starting to quietly bicker about something as they walked towards an open bay. Hope radiated confidence through their connection as Ilaasan timidly walked up the stairs of the decorated ship.

❖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anytime “Be Brave” is said in-game I completely lose my composure, mostly because of this fic: “[Expressions of Courage](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16739281)”
> 
>  **Connected Scenes**  
>  \- Hope's testing session: [Machine's Blessing Shell](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26651902)  
> \- Meanwhile, outside the Gray Pigeon: [Delivery Frame Operations Log [35022]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26652280)
> 
>  **Lore Referenced**  
>  \- If it isn’t evident already, this fic is set during Season of the Worthy—the imminent threat is the Almighty hurtling towards the Last City ([Season of the Worthy Opening Cinematic](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/transcripts/season-of-the-worthy-opening-cinematic))


	12. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kell of House Light offers Ilaasan a choice.

Saint was right—the ship wasn’t very large. Ilaasan could smell the other Eliksni long before she saw him as she reached the final step. The scent was actually vaguely familiar; soon she recalled the basement at the Farm and realization struck her. 

«Greetings,» came a rumbling voice from behind her. «It is good to finally meet you.»

Curled in the cockpit, the only place that seemed large enough to support his frame, was the tallest Eliksni she’d ever seen. He wore a heavy furred mantle and armor that reflected his rank. The Kell bowed his massive head as Ilaasan turned to face him, his eyes glowing bright with interest.

Ilaasan gasped; the image of the malicious Captain suddenly seared across her mind and she tried unsuccessfully to force the memory away. Her Ghost started circling her nervously as she began to tremble.

«I am sorry I… surprised you.» He said apologetically, noticing the shift.

«It’s not—» Ilaasan began but stopped, her breath growing short. Her thoughts began to race as her mind spiralled uncontrollably: _I T S H I M I T S H I M H E F O U N D U S H E W I L L K I L L U S._ She reached an arm out to steady herself against the crashing thoughts.

 _«Oh dear, I think I know what’s happening.»_ Hope sounded so very far away.

 _Just breathe—you’re safe here,_ her Ghost coaxed, much closer _._ Ilaasan closed her eyes and focused simply on breathing, trying to ignore the presence of the other Eliksni. _That’s it,_ she soothed. _Just breathe._ Ilaasan wrapped her lower arms around herself and continued to use a primary arm to brace against the wall of the ship. Eventually the panic began to subside.

Her Ghost chirped softly and nuzzled against her encouragingly before turning to face the Kell.

_«Ilaasan was killed by her Captain in her previous life. I guess you reminded her of that.»_

«That is unfortunate. I am sorry.»

The Vandal calmly took a few more deep breaths before finally opening her eyes. The Kell was watching her with a concerned look, but had stayed where he was. As she became more aware of herself, Ilaasan’s eyes paled with embarrassment and she quickly bowed low.

«Please forgive me, Kell Misraaks,* I didn’t—»

«You do not have to refer to me by that title when we are alone,» he interrupted. «Though I do appreciate it. And there is nothing to be forgiven. Each of us bear scars and heavy burdens—whether visible or not. Now please, take a seat; I would like to know you better.»

«I’m afraid there isn’t much to know.»

«Really? Vince speaks very highly of you—he is proud to claim you are a fierce Hunter, but Amirrah is unconvinced. She questions many things.» Mithrax paused for a moment to chuckle, a gleam of affection in his eyes. «He also says you are quite skilled with tech.»

«Yes. I had training to become a Splicer, but…» She trailed off and looked at her Ghost.

_«Then she found me.»_

«Is it not usually the other way around, little light?»

_«Usually. But well, here we are… My name is Hope.»_

«Hope,» he rumbled. «That is an auspicious name indeed. Tell me, did you give Ilaasan her name? I’ve been told this happens sometimes, as Risen do not remember their lives before.»

«No.» Ilaasan answered, peering up at the Kell. «I was… my name was given to me by the Great Machine.»

Mithrax stared in wonder, then leaned back with a thoughtful nod and closed his eyes. «This House is dedicated to serving the Great Machine. That you have been hallowed by the Light and given that name…

«Before the Wolves, there were Weavers. Ones who brought the threads together and could see the tapestry. Perhaps it means that our people can be redeemed once more.» He slowly opened his eyes, giving Ilaasan a look of admiration before continuing. «This House would be greatly blessed by your presence. But it is your choice to make—I understand that Risen do not choose to be reborn in the Light. And I would not keep you from the destiny you see for yourself, whatever that may be.»

Ilaasan paused before answering—the Awoken woman at the Farm came briefly to mind. Hope pulsed encouragement through their bond at her hesitation, _I’m with you no matter what you choose to do._

«I will help wherever there is a need.» Ilaasan answered after a moment. «Whether in battle, fighting to protect the weak, or perhaps serving elsewhere, it is the same. And if being in this House will help my people—both of them—then I will do it without hesitation.»

«That is… good to hear.»

He rumbled deeply and bowed his head. «The House of Light welcomes you, Ilaasan. We will have a more formal ceremony before the House soon.»

«Oh.»

«Don’t worry—it will be mostly for… some of our _particularly_ traditionally-minded members. Now,» he tapped at his gauntlet, activating a holopanel. «Our friend Saint will be needing his ship back. And I must return to my House—we have been away for some time. You are welcome to join us, meet some of those who would call you sister.»

Hope chirped in excitement and Ilaasan nodded in response. Mithrax peered at the screen then glanced towards them once more. «Amirrah and Vince will take you there. Goodbye for now, Ilaasan.»

Then the Kell disappeared in a shimmer of transmat, and Ilaasan was left alone with her Ghost. They shared a look and the Vandal sighed deeply as a feeling of relief washed over her.

\---

The Hunter and the Warlock were quietly relaxing together, looking out over the City. Vince dangled his legs over the edge, arms woven through the railing struts as Amirrah stood leaning against it. A slight breeze carried a mixture of scents from the sprawl below and caught her long, silvery hair in a playful ripple.

“Our House is growing,” she contemplated, reaching a hand up to tuck the strands behind her ear.

“Yep. Gonna have to pick up a few more bounties to feed ‘em all.”

“Well aren’t we lucky.”

“No really! You should thank the Traveler to have someone as responsible and generous as me to keep footing the bill.”

“You’ve never worked an honest day in your life,” she deadpanned.

“I’m hurt and offended. I’ve worked at _least_ three honest days, and quite a few that are… honest-adjacent.”

“What is this being about honor?” came a voice from behind them. They both turned to see Ilaasan and her Ghost floating nearby.

“Only that you’re going to be the guest of honor!”

He scrambled up to give her another enthusiastic hug—she was starting to realize that the Hunter was very tactile. But after the strain of the past day and all the time they’d spent together, Ilaasan found she didn’t mind.

“Or should I say honored House member? Sorry, Mithrax messaged us already. Sometimes that guy is really _terrible_ at keeping secrets.” 

Ilaasan trilled softly.

Amirrah approached as well, placing a hand on the Vandal’s shoulder.

«I’m looking forward to knowing you better,» she said eloquently in Eliksni before switching. “Vince and I are excited to have another fireteam member.”

“I as well. Friends being better than alone.”

Ilaasan gazed beyond them and at the Traveler. She still had questions and wondered what the future would bring, but in this moment, surrounded by her new fireteam, she felt safe. That she was where she needed to be. That she was one step closer to saving her people.

* * *

For being the last place the Great Machine touched, Io is a stinking, humid moon. 

A lonely Vandal trudged along the strange landscape, taking careful strides to avoid stepping into another sulfuric puddle. The wind battered at his increasingly threadbare green robes and his upper arms began to ache where flesh and metal meet. Perhaps there would be another storm tonight.

He adjusted his grip on his staff and craned his neck to look out over the landscape—still not high enough. The yellow and grey rock formations provided better cover and means to stay unseen, but he needed to be sure that he’s still heading in the right direction.

Finally reaching the crest, the Vandal took a moment to catch his breath. A nearby rock would suffice as a seat. Carefully he checked his ether supply—there wasn’t much left, and going back to the ship at this point would be dangerous. Too many Guardians crawling around.

In the distance he could finally see his destination: a mountain listed in the records as Echo Mesa*, and beyond it was the valley. A place simply called the Cradle—the place where the Eliksni would rise once more, yes? His eyes brightened with anticipation.

But a nagging tendril of doubt snaked into his mind once again—as it did so often now. So much had changed, how could he be sure? The Vandal shook his head and growled. He would find Kaliks there, he was certain.

Or he would die, gasping and alone on this Jovian moon.

The thought chilled him, spurring him back into action. Gripping his staff tightly, Judgement’s last stood confidently and continued his trek toward salvation for his people.

❖ ❖ ❖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild Variks appears! Perhaps he will appear more in the next fic, yes?
> 
>  **Lore Referenced**  
> \- Other Eliksni can pronounce Mithrax’s name correctly ([Misraaks](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/misraaks); [Lord of Wolves](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/lord-of-wolves)) ▲  
> \- Io was one of the last terraformed celestial bodies visited by the Traveler before it fled to Earth during the Collapse ([Ghost Fragment: Cayde-6](https://www.ishtar-collective.net/cards/ghost-fragment-cayde-6?highlight=echo+mesa)) ▲

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading and all the kudos and comments! I hope you enjoyed this sequel—I started planning it out while writing “Lightless” and there are plans for a third fic eventually… it’ll focus a little more on the House of Light and take the story into Season of Arrivals. I’m hoping to have the story figured out before Beyond Light wrecks with my timeline/plans/free time.
> 
> Special thanks to [omgitsomeguy](https://twitter.com/omgitsomeguy) and [foolhappy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolhappy/pseuds/foolhappy) for betaing!


End file.
